Dance Macabre
by Ravenous-Seduction
Summary: Dean and Sam set out to find an unknown creature, and they quickly realize they require Castiel's assistance. When Dean and Cas end up trapped together, the hunter begins to realize his inner thoughts about the angel. Set during the angel war after Sam's soul is returned (AU - Death was able to put his soul completely back together). Fluff, smut, angst... a general mix.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Hey guys, so I learned a lot from my previous fic (which happened to be my first one as well). For starters, I learned that using the present tense was a bad idea. It doesn't capture thoughts as well without sounding weird. I've been reading a lot of other fics and I understand why past tense is used most of the time. Secondly, I'm going to start uploading chapter by chapter, rather than type it all out and then publish it. That way, I can get your guys' feedback and suggestions to kinda help influence the story as it goes along. I'll start by trying to get at least one chapter in every day or two, depending on how much I can get done with my schedule; I do a lot of volunteer work where I live. But, I digress. Please enjoy, and reviews would be helpful!**_

* * *

Dean sipped on his beer, the chilling touch of it numbing his hands while he crosses his legs down the bed in their shoddy hotel in Dallas, TX. Job well done. Sammy got his soul back, vampire's next was cleaned out last week; the only thing left to take care of was that son of a bitch Raphael. What the hell was Cas thinking, trying to stand him up like that? Freakin' angels. He'll never understand their motives or thoughts.

"Hey, Dean? Did you just hear me?"

"Huh?" was the only thing Dean could say. He hadn't noticed Sam, holding a newspaper in one hand and the fork to his salad in the other, was trying to get his attention for the past ten seconds. He straightened himself out a little bit, setting the bottle on a coaster. "What?"

"Would it kill you to just pay attention every once in a while?" Sam snapped at him, twisting his face into a 'Dean I'm disappointed in you' expression. Dean had seen that face a thousand times; sure, it worked the first two times. Now it's freakin' annoying.

"It might if you keep eating that rabbit buffet shit," Dean retorted. He pointed his finger at Sam, shaking it as if Sam was a small child and he was the grandmother. "You need to get some meat on your bones."

Sam raised his eyebrows, obviously challenged by his older brother's comment. He lifted up his shirt halfway to reveal a hard-lined six pack of abs. "Does it really look like I need a double bacon cheeseburger?" he said as he glared back at Dean, who appeared sarcastically defeated. "Anyways," Sam continued, "I've been reading the papers. Peoria, Illinois. A 25 year-old woman named Jessica Pool was found dead in a local park."

"And what does that have to do with us?" Dean spoke, uninterested in the topic. He retrieved his beer from the table and began to sip on it. Sam paused and looked back up at him.

"Well, the coroner's report claimed that she clearly died of asphyxiation. However, an autopsy revealed that every bone in her body vanished."

Dean almost choked on his beer. He could feel the alcohol lingering in the back of his throat, leaving a burning sensation that he can't shake off. "Vanished? How the hell does that even work?"

"I don't know, but we should check it out."

Dean stood up and walked into the bathroom, calling out to Sam, "Sounds good. I'll call Bobby, you look into this Jessica chick. See if she has any family we can check up on." Sam nodded and opened his laptop to check her files. Dean pulled his cell phone from his pocket, a cheap Motorola he got in Sioux Falls after Sam's soul was returned. He flipped it open and dialed Bobby's number. It rang three times before a familiar old voice greeted him on the phone.

"_You boys best have somethin' important to tell me, since you idjits felt it necessary to interrupt my studyin'._" Dean smiled to himself as he heard that. Bobby had been working on finding a way to make any gun work just like the Colt, before that bitch Bela stole it and it didn't do shit against Lucifer. Dean forgot that he was dead serious on his studying too, and should only be called in an absolute emergency.

"Glad to hear you're still conscious over there, instead of passed out under your desk."

"_Get on with it._"

"You ever heard of a creature that could cause bones to pull a disappearing act out of a human?" A long pause on the other line trailed the question. Dean could almost hear the old man thinking, imagine his facial expression.

"_I ain't ever heard of something like that, but it sure ain't natural._"

"We figured so too." Dean switched the phone to his other ear, staring at the mirror in the bathroom and picking at hairs that he missed while shaving. His deep, forest green eyes reflected the overheard light. "We're gonna head to Peoria, Illinois and check it out. Think you could hit the books for us and let us know what you find?"

"_I'll see what I can do._"

"Thanks Bobby, I owe ya." He hung up the phone and turned towards Sam, who was sitting on some social media website he didn't recognize. What the hell was with Sam and the Internet? He's on it wherever they go, and whenever Dean looks up, his brother's face is constantly lit up by this same dark blue color. Dean walked over to where Sam was sitting, intently focused on the computer.

"What the hell is 'Tumblr'? And what the—" Dean tried to finish, but Sam slammed the laptop closed and spun around to face his older brother, his cheeks blazing red.

"Shut up now, you saw nothing," Sam warned. Dean's eyebrows were raised high, complimenting his widened eyes and taken aback stance.

"Was that a moving picture of kinky bondage porn?" Dean said quickly, awaiting the onslaught of lectures on how he shouldn't be looking at his stuff and should be minding his own business somewhere far away.

Instead, Sam stood up and shifted the topic. "I looked into Jessie's history. Only child, both parents died in a car crash when she was 19, but she was in a relationship for about three years."

Dean sat down on the queen-sized bed, placing his wrist on his thigh. "We got a place to start. Any intel on where the boyfriend lives?"

"Girlfriend."

Dean cocked his head in confusion, eyes riddled with shock. "Come again?"

Sam slipped on his coat and walked towards the door. "I said she had a girlfriend, not a boyfriend. And yes, I have her address. Let's go." Dean sat there for a moment. Not the first time he's encountered a lesbian, but attacking a lesbian couple? He's heard about it but never heard of any monsters doing it. He threw on his leather jacket, grabbed his eyes from the nightstand, and strode out the door to the Impala.

* * *

On a back road somewhere in Missouri, the Impala sped down the gravel, her engine rumbling muffled within the car as Dean turned up the radio when Highway to Hell played. Sam stared out the window at the passing trees, pondering the case. What could this thing be? He'd ruled out every possible monster in the book from vampire to shrtiga to vetala. It didn't make sense; what can vaporize bone? He thought about it harder when an idea came to mind. He turned to Dean, who was singing horribly off-key to AC/DC, and turned down the radio a bit. Dean snapped his gaze over to his little brother, who just touched his baby without permission.

"What the hell was that for?" he nearly shouted, the sound of irritation clearly present in his voice.

"You think we should call Cas down? See if he's heard of this thing?"

Dean turned the radio down a little further, Cas's name striking interest in his mind for an unknown reason. "Sam, you know he's in the middle of a war upstairs right now, he doesn't have the time to help us with our homework."

"But I just thought—"

"No. We won't bother Cas unless it's last resort. We'll wait for Bobby to tell us what he found, and if he can't find shit on this, THEN we'll call down Feathers."

Sam scoffed under his breath. Typical of Dean to take control of a situation, he thought. He returned to his post of staring out the window, trying to read signs that whiz by. His eyelids began to grow heavy, and soon enough he was dozing off to the hypnotic sound of the Impala's purrs around him.

* * *

_**A/N: So like I said, one chapter at a time and no more present tense. If you're following the story then thank you! It really means a lot! I will try to update this as much as I can!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thanks for continuing on! I will post each chapter as I finish them, possibly giving some time between each one. Thanks for sticking around!**_

* * *

The Winchester boys pulled into the parking lot of a three-story apartment complex dressed in their FBI suits and stepped out of the Impala onto the worn gravel. Dean studied the building, taking note of the wear-and-tear of the brick exterior. The couple didn't live in luxury, it seems. The brothers entered the complex with serious expressions, looking as professional as they possibly could. People always believed the pricy get-up and fake badges. They stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to take them to floor three.

"Sam?" Dean said as the door closed in front of them, the metal of the door reflecting their figures in a dull manner. Sam turned towards his older brother.

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you want to bring Cas into this?" Dean bit the inside of his lower lip, subtle enough so that Sam wouldn't notice. He enjoyed Castiel's company (though sometimes he was rather boring and a bit of a buzzkill), but calling him down for this? No, they needed to figure it out on their own. Cas has other things he has to get done… at least he thinks.

Sam looked into his hazy reflection that the door manifested, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "Dean, you know Cas has extensive knowledge of all sorts of things that go bump in the night. Maybe he knows something the books don't know."

"Whatever. If Bobby can't find anything then we'll call him down. Until then, don't go praying somewhere off my radar." The elevator emitted a soft beep before allowing its doors to steadily part ways. The "agents" paced themselves calmly down the hall.

"Here it is," Sam said, stopping at the second to last door on the left. "32 C."

"You sure this is her?" Dean questioned, glaring down the door. It seemed like it was cleaned recently, unlike the rest of the doors in the building.

"It's what the file said."

"Okay…" Dean reached his arm out and knocked three times on the door. The woman that answered the door was absolutely stunning; long, blonde hair and sky blue eyes complimented her clear skinned-face and model-status body. Shame she's gay, Dean thought to himself.

"You must be Sherry Bethield," Sam implied. The boys took their fake IDs from their pockets and flashed them her way. "Detective Page." He pointed his thumb to Dean. "This is my partner, Detective Plant. We're with the FBI."

"We just have a few questions regarding the death of your… partner," Dean said slowly. "Partner" seemed like a good term to use; he didn't want to offend the poor woman.

"You two are the first cops to not treat me like shit upon seeing me," Sherry muttered, seemingly relieved. "Please, come in." She led them through her immaculately clean living room to their couch. "Water, juice, tea, beer?" she offered.

"Beer," both of them said simultaneously, borderline excited. As she walked into her kitchen, Dean turned to Sam, who was reading the names of the novels she had stacked neatly along a shelf opposite to them.

"Beautiful, kind, has freaking beer," he whispered, "why the hell do the good ones have to be gay?"

"Smart, too," Sam pointed out, tilting his head towards the armory of books he had been staring at. "Most of those are textbooks, probably from college. Trust me, I wish she was into guys too." Sherry returned with three beers, handing two of them to the brothers before taking a seat on the recliner.

"Long day, I take it?" she asked.

"That's probably an understatement," Dean uttered, popping the cap off of his bottle and taking a sip. "So, Sherry, you and Jessica had been together for quite a while. Can you tell us about her?"

Sherry shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Tears were evidently forming behind her eyes. "Jessie was the best thing that ever happened to me, or even to anyone. She was always volunteering herself at places and was the life of the crowd. I loved her deeply, and she reciprocated that feeling." A silver tear slipped down her face. "I don't understand why this had to happen to her, of all people…"

"We are incredibly sorry for your loss, Sherry," Sam comforted.

"Do you mind if I take a look around?" Dean asked her. She nodded softly and he stood up, ambling around the apartment. If there was a hex bag anywhere, he would find it. Besides, the place was so clean, he wouldn't have to move shit around too much to see places where it might be hidden.

"Have you happened to notice anything weird going on?" Sam questioned her calmly. He didn't want to freak her out with anything; she didn't deserve the situation to happen to her as it had already.

"What do you mean?" Sherry asked, her confusion showing in her shaking voice. Sam can hear Dean opening cupboards and moving chairs in the kitchen.

"Strange smells, cold spots?"

Sherry straightened up slightly, suspicion rising. "Not that I know of."

"Do you know of anyone who may have wanted to hurt her?"

"Not at all. I mean, there was this one douchebag who constantly harassed her for being a lesbian. I never learned his name, otherwise I would have hunted him down and killed him for it…" She paused when she realized what she had just said. "Metaphorically, of course… don't arrest me."

Sam chuckled under his breath. "Don't worry, you're all good. Can you describe the man who was harassing Jessie?"

"Yeah… a little bit. He was medium height, and he had short blond hair and brown eyes. You don't think he did this… did you?" Her eyes widened slightly, her blue eyes stricken with concern and anger.

Sam adjusted himself in his seat. "We're not sure yet. But we'll let you know as soon as we find out." Dean re-entered the living room, a signal that he didn't find anything worth looking into. Sam stood up and looked at Sherry. "Thank you for your time, but we have to get going now."

"No cold spots," Dean began as they were walking back to the Impala, "no ghosts. No strange smells, no demons. No hex bags, no witches. What the hell are we dealing with?"

"I don't know," Sam replied, a worried look spread across his face. "I'll call Bobby, see what he has for us." He pulls out his phone and dials Bobby's number.

"_Yeah?_"

"Whatcha got for us, Bobby?"

"_Sam, I have searched just about every book I have, and not even a demon can burn someone's bones within their own body without setting the entire thing ablaze. I can't find anything._"

"Alright, Bobby. Thanks for trying. We'll call you when we figure all this out." Sam closed his cell phone and turned to Dean. "He's got nothing."

"Dammit," Dean exclaimed. They climbed into the car and drove out of the lot. "We'll head to the morgue and examine the body, THEN we'll call Cas."

"Deal," Sam replied.

* * *

The coroner removed the covering from Jessie's body on Sam and Dean's request. They examined the body, feeling it with latex gloves on. Dean gazed up at her face. Jessie was beautiful, even in death. He almost felt bad having to touch her. She deserved peace, he thought.

However, upon massaging her pale, limp arm, they noticed that it was tentacle-like. There was no bone resistance whatsoever, almost as if her body was made of liquid. Dean and Sam exchanged confused looks.

"Time to call Cas?" Sam suggested.

Dean sighed and closed his eyes, bowing his head reluctantly. "Cas, if you can hear me, we need you down here. Now… please."

"Dean…" a familiarly rough voice called from behind them. They turned around to see Castiel standing there, wearing his normal attire, in which consisted of his dirty beige trench coat, accountant get-up, and backwards tie. His hair was messier than usual, Dean noticed, and his eyes shined a little less bright. The war had been taking its toll on him.

"Oh, that's cool, don't acknowledge me here," Sam complained jokingly, making a fake pouting face.

"Hello to you as well, Sam," Castiel said in his usual monotone robot voice. He turned his focus onto the other brother. "What did you call me here for, Dean?"

Dean straightened out a bit, standing tall. He always felt like he needed to impress Castiel for some reason. Probably because the guy pulled him out of Hell and saved his ass countless times. "Can you search this body for any supernatural traces of whatever? We have no idea what we're hunting here."

Castiel nodded and walked over to Jessie's stilled body, placing a hand on her abdomen. After a second or two, the hand sunk into her body, emitting a faint light. He closed his eyes, racking his angel knowledge to find a possible match for whatever did the damage. He opened his eyes and removed his hand from Jessie, turning towards the boys, who were staring at him in curiosity.

"Whatever it is," Castiel started, "never touched her once." The shocking expression on both of their faces almost made Castiel laugh, but he knew enough from being with them that it was not socially acceptable among humans to laugh in the presence of the dead. "There are only a handful of things that could have done this, none of them existing anywhere on this side of the planet."

Dean looked dead at him in sheer confusion. He threw his hands up slightly. "So how the fuck did it get here?!" he shouted.

Castiel shook his head, obviously lacking of the answer. "I can't answer that yet. Not until I know what it is for sure. Tell me if you find anyone or anything that doesn't belong here whatsoever. All of these things can appear human." He approached the brothers slowly, Dean specifically. "I will come the moment you call."

"Wait, Cas—" Dean tried to say, but he had already disappeared. "Freakin' angels," he exclaimed irritably.

"I guess we just have to start looking around town," Sam suggested.


	3. Chapter 3

"So Cas has no possible theories as to what this might be?"

Dean took a bite from his bacon cheeseburger, setting it back down on the Biggerson's burgundy-colored food tray. "He has theories," Dean explained to his brother with his mouth full (how rude, Sam thought to himself). "He just doesn't know for sure which one is actually it. We'll look around, check out local hotspots, find some weird son of a bitch waltzing around, and catch him in the act before it happens." He sipped on his Mountain Dew lazily. "Besides, what're the chances this guy is gonna look like us if he's from the other side of the world?"

Sam poked at his Caesar salad with his plastic fork, rolling a tomato back and forth. "England, Germany, France…"

"Okay, eat your food, Bugs Bunny," Dean joked as he tried to stare seriously at his brother's face. Jeez, Sam always had to get technical with shit. Whatever, the case was more important. As he bit again into his burger, he looks out the window at the park across the street. He noticed a pair of guys playing Frisbee in the grass, enjoying their time. For some reason, Dean enjoyed watching them. It was almost soothing to see people living normal lives, though it made him jealous. That could be he and Sammy standing there, tossing a football back and forth, enjoying their time as brothers. Instead, they got stuck with this shitty life that no one wanted. Dean was snapped out of his envy trance when someone caught his eye.

"Sam," he warned, standing up and engaging in full hunter mode. Sam followed his brother's gaze to a woman standing about fifty feet from the two men. She was wearing tribal clothes that only covered the important parts of her body. Her hair was formed into dreadlocks with strands of beads and charms interwoven through it. A necklace made of silver skulls hung gracefully from her neck. The two boys quickly ditched the restaurant and made way towards the park, yet when they reached the edge of the grass, they froze, unable to move.

"What the… hell is going… on?!" Sam barely shouted.

"I… can't… move…" Dean struggled to get out. He watched as the shaman-like woman began to dance in an exotic pattern that neither of the Winchesters could recognize. She twisted her arms above her heads and made excellent use of rolling her hips, dropping low occasionally; Dean would have been incredibly turned on if it weren't for the fact that she was the reason he was trapped by an unknown force. As her dancing progressed, black threadlike auras trailed from her fingers to one of the men—they are seemingly unaware of the event that is taking place—wrapping around him. Dean is about to tell him to get out of the way when an idea enters his brain.

"Castiel!"

The boys blinked at the same time, somewhat shocked to see Castiel standing directly in front of them as they fluttered their eyelids open. They still weren't used to him just _appearing_ out of nowhere.

"What is it, Dean?" the confused angel asked.

"The… thing… there…" Sam muttered weakly. Castiel turns around to face the exotic woman, who has withdrawn her shadow strings back into her fingers. The man that was unknowingly tied up fell fluidly to the ground, choking on his own air, but unable to reach out or speak. His friend rushed over to him, obviously freaking out and calling 9-1-1. Castiel teleported over to the woman, his angel blade armed and ready. He raised his blade up with inhuman speed, and slashed down.

But he didn't hit her.

In a flash, the woman guarded herself with what Dean and Sam made out to be pure bone. It was formed in a large shield, sourcing from inside of her arm. What the fuck was this thing? It had powers unlike anything they'd ever seen.

Castiel felt the recoil of the blade striking the bone shield, forcing him to jump backward. The woman twirled around with a soft laugh and disappeared before the angel could strike again. He teleported back to the brothers, who were released from their telekinetic hold.

"We need to go," Castiel demanded, placing his two fingers on both of their heads. Instantly they were transported back to the hotel, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Traveling with angels was something that took some getting used to.

"Alright, so what the hell just happened?!" Dean shouted angrily. "And why the fuck did you take us away from there, we could have questioned the other one!"

"It was a Skulletra," Castiel responded immediately, rather than answering his questions. Dean was irritated at that, but he cocked his head in confusion at the name Castiel just mentioned.

"I'm sorry, a what?"

"A Skulletra," Castiel explained. "They are godlike beings that can protrude bones from their bodies and even pull them out to use as weapons or defense mechanisms, quickly regenerating any lost or damaged bone."

"Okay then," Sam began skeptically, "so what was the dancing?"

Castiel sat on the bed, dragging his hand along the soft sheets. He enjoyed how humans made soft things. "Skulletra are also beings of magic. In a way that you say a unique incantation for spells, they have a unique dance. They are capable of accomplishing anything."

Sam furrowed his brow, perplexed. "Where did it come from?"

"These beings are incredibly rare, and can only be found in southeast France."

"So one may have found its way over here?" Dean posed.

"I don't think so," Castiel rejected. "Skulletra are incredibly territorial due to their small numbers. They would never leave France. Unless…" he trailed off. Could a human have seriously done that?

"Unless what?" both hunters asked at once.

"Unless someone summoned her here."

Dean and Sam both exchanged looks. Castiel recognized it as the "oh shit" look, meaning something was not good. There was a strange silence hanging in the room.

"Alright, so how do we kill this thing?" Dean broke the ice.

Castiel shook his head slightly. "You don't."

The hunters' eyes widened in massive shock. "What?!" Sam yelled.

"Skulletra cannot be killed, which is normally not an issue. They are docile creatures that rarely ever harm humans, except when to feed. What you just witnessed earlier was the feeding process." Castiel stood up from the bed and ambled over to the window, staring out it into the parking lot. "The summoner must be forcing her to feed on people against her will, however. A Skulletra can go three decades without feeding once."

"So, we find the bitch, have her take us to her leader, and kill him?" Dean suggested.

"Even in death, a person could have control over the Skulletra. After killing them, you must perform a ritual to unseal the bond. Summoning one, bonding with one, and breaking the bond must all be done in the same place, where a Wiccan of French descent was buried."

"Right, so we'll find them," Dean says, halfway excitedly. "Sam, head to the library and check for any Frenchie witches that were buried around here. I'm going to stay here and find a pattern between the deaths, maybe that will lead us to the son of a bitch that summoned the bitch."

"Gotcha," Sam replied. Dean tossed the keys to the Impala to him and he walked out the door. Dean turned on the laptop and searched for the news story of the incident that just occurred about twenty minutes ago. Someone has bound to have reported on it by now. Castiel walked over to Dean's side, staring at the computer.

"I don't understand, how are you making that little arrow move?" Castiel asked curiously. It was almost cute.

"I don't know, Cas, you're gonna have to ask Sammy that question sometime," Dean said as he read the article. "Found it."

"Found what?"

"The relation between victims. The victim's name today was Oliver Colk. He was playing Frisbee in the park with his boyfriend, Alex." He added emphasis to the word 'boyfriend'. "Jessica Pool died in the same park a few days ago, the same way. We spoke with her girlfriend." He closed the laptop and stood up, smiling at Castiel, who looked back with bright blue eyes.

"They're all homosexual," Castiel pointed out.

"That's right," Dean confirmed, "so we have someone who doesn't like to taste the rainbow that hangs around the park, ordering his bone slave to take them out."

"It seems that way," Castiel added. He felt utterly indifferent about homosexuality, and it was sobering to know that was the sole reason they were killed. Did Dean support LGBTQ? Castiel zoned out and pondered this question as Dean sent a text to Sammy:

_**Victims are both flaming gay. Both died in that park. Summoner should be hanging around there.**_

He closed his phone, just as a haunting voice laced with a heavy French accent rang through the air, sending shivers down even Castiel's spine.

"Hello boys." Dean turned around to see the Skulletra, smiling calmly but wickedly right at him.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so much for keeping with the story. I know I've been slow with getting to the actual Destiel, but it's coming, I promise! Any reviews or comments you guys might have would be wonderful. To the followers, thank you so very much! I will update as much as I can and keep these little notes to a minimum. Again, thank you guys, and here you go. :)**_

* * *

Dean removed his handgun from beneath his belt at high speed and aimed it at the monster. How the fuck did she know where they went? She must have kept watch on them after Cas zapped them back to the hotel. The Skulletra let out a sinister laugh, mocking Dean's steadfast bravery.

"Now, now," she irked playfully. Her heavy French accent shone in her voice, and Dean would have found it downright sexy if it weren't a crazy monster bitch. "Don't you think it's a little dangerous to play with such toys?"

Dean straightened his arms out at her a little farther, imposing as a threat to her. "I may not be able to kill you, but I'll sure as hell hurt you, you French whore." She sarcastically took a step back and chuckled under her breath. That laugh made Dean want to puke. Not just because she was a bitch he couldn't kill. It had an ominous undertone that made his legs feel weak. It made him scared.

"Ouch. A little harsh to treat your guests, don't you think?" She cocked her head to the left, sending the gun whizzing out of Dean's hands in that direction. It hit the wall with a loud thud. Dean was afraid it would discharge and cause a ruckus, attracting attention to the room. Thankfully, it didn't, and rested itself on the floor. Dean rushed to grab it, but was again held down by an invisible force. His head uncontrollably turned to face the Skulletra, who had extended her arm gracefully towards him. If this wicked bitch didn't cut that shit out, Dean was going to be irate. She continued speaking, "I told you, those toys are dangerous. Now you've lost your privilege to play with them." Dean was fuming. Who the fuck was this bitch to mother him?!

"Dean!" Castiel shouted, lunging towards him to move him. Instead, he was caught in an intricate web of bones that had projected from the Skulletra's extended limb. Attempting to teleport out of the cage, he closed his eyes and focused on getting he and Dean out of there.

But nothing happened. He looked around the room and met gaze with the piercing purple that swirled in the Skulletra's eyes, his electric blue ones flaring in their sockets. The Skulletra cackled wickedly; Dean could feel the vomit rising in his throat as he stood frozen.

"You boys just don't listen, do you?" she taunted, shifting her stare from the angel to the hunter. She met emerald green orbs that gleamed with murderous intent. "I come to talk to you two and you just attack me." She pulled her arm backward and detached herself from the bone cage. It stood perfectly still, a morbid bird cage for the angel trapped inside. "You can't see it from here, angel, but the bone is covered in Enochian warding sigils. You're mine now."

"What do you want?!" Dean shouted. It was much easier to talk this time than it was back at the park. Though he still couldn't move unless she wanted him to, as if he were a puppet, the telekinetic pressure was not as strong as earlier that day. She had no intention of hurting him.

The Skulletra stared dead at him, annoyance in her violet eyes. "I can hear your thoughts. I am, to you, a bitch. A monster. I prefer that you called me Valois."

"Va-loh-ah…" Dean rolled the name off of his tongue in perplexity. "Freaking French names."

Valois crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, strengthening her stance. She was preparing for something, Dean and Castiel could both tell. "I wanted to talk," she began, "but you idiots wanted to shoot first and ask questions later. So we're going to go somewhere more private." She unfolded her arms and shifted from her militaristic stance to a graceful pose, mimicking a ballerina dancer. She then engaged in an enticing exotic dance, one that Dean couldn't help but stare at. She was absolutely beautiful for being a monster. Castiel's eyes grew in shock. He recognized this dance… yes, he remembered now. Back when he visited France on a mission a few hundred years ago, he witnessed a different Skulletra perform this maneuver and cause an older woman to vanish into a different universe. 'Danse de l'Autre Monde' (Dance of the Other World), he remembered Uriel refer to it as. He tried to yell, but he could do nothing. The Enochian was keeping him human, and the energy emitting from the dance prevented him from screaming.

Valois spun around in a rapid twirl before freezing in an elegant swan-like pose. A black aura surrounded the angel and hunter, veiling their bodies as they disappeared into the world she had prepared for them. She smiled calmly as she removed a bead strand from her long, black dreadlocks and set it on the neatly made bed.

"Don't worry, hunter," she said into the empty hotel room. She waltzed over and touched the cage of bone, causing it to disappear in a small cloud of deep purple smoke, keeping a piece of it that resembled a rib in her hand. She placed it on the nightstand. "I will come back to tell your little brother where you have gone." With that, she twirled around and vanished from the room, leaving a silence quieter than night.

Minutes later, Sam entered the room. "Guys, I found something!" He looked around curiously. No response. "Guys?" He glanced over at his bed and noticed something lying on it. He picked it up and examined it closely. Beads? His gaze trailed over to the nightstand, landing on the eerie bone that laid there. Sam's stomach dropped as he realized what had happened.

"Shit!" he exclaimed.

* * *

Dean woke up face down in what he could feel was grass. He sat up slowly, massaging his thumbs against his temple. He had a migraine from Hell. Something was off about this place. What did Valois do? He looked around the area and noticed instantly what was wrong.

He sat in an open field of nicely-cut grass, though no one else was in sight to have possibly cut it. The sky was clear, except for a few clouds. But the sky was no longer a baby blue, and the clouds were no longer a snow white. Replacing it was a dark violet extending as far as the eye can see, with pulsing black clouds floating along every now and again. A single tree with blood-red leaves stood atop a hill not too far from where Dean had awoke, and he could see a figure in a white trench coat leaning unconscious against the tree.

"Cas!" he yelled, rushing towards the angel. He bent down and lifted Castiel's head into his hands. "Cas, wake up!"

Castiel slowly opened his eyes, hazy of the environment around him. When it clicked in his head where he was, he gasped in shock, standing straight up past Dean.

"Cas, you okay?"

Castiel whirled around to face the hunter, his concerned emerald eyes clashing with the angel's electric sapphire. "Where's Valois?" he said in a gravelly yet frantic voice. Dean shrugged, but was soon chasing after Castiel, who was running down the hill. They ran forward in a straight line for only about thirty seconds before climbing another hill. Or at least, what _seemed_ like another hill. The men stood by the same tree where Castiel awoke just moments before. The angel placed his hands on his knees, panting heavily. He wasn't used to having to exert energy like that, but he could feel that he was human in this world. There must have been Enochian sigils somewhere hidden that he cannot access; he had to watch out for himself. Dean caught up and grabbed Castiel by the shoulders.

"Cas, what the hell was that? And why did you just run off like that?"

"I had to confirm something."

"What the fuck did you need to confirm?!" Castiel could hear the anger paired with concern in Dean's voice.

"Dean, listen to me." The angel stood straight up and grabbed Dean's shoulders in reciprocation. "We are standing in a world that Valois has created herself."

Dean took a step back, his emerald eyes riddled with shock. "Wait, she created this place?"

Castiel nodded his head. "I ran off to confirm this. That tree right there is the exact same tree that I just woke up on. The edges are guarded by heavy magic that just transport you to the other side."

Dean slowly turned his gaze to the tree, its blood red leaves swaying in a wind that wasn't even there. He looked back at Castiel, whose concern was heavily apparent. "So we can't leave this place until the French witch doctor takes us out of here?"

"Essentially, yes."

"Dammit!" Dean kicked at the ground and walked off, rubbing the sweat off his face with his hands. "How is Sammy gonna be able to handle this on his own?"

"He won't," a French voice calls from behind them. They turned to see Valois standing there, a glass orb in her hands. Dean lunged at her and drove his fist across her face. She barely flinched at the hit, while Dean was rubbing his knuckles to ease the pain. It had felt like he just punched solid steel, and he was surprised he didn't break anything in his hand. Bracing himself to be flown across the field or impaled with a stake of bone, Dean was surprised to see Valois just standing there, her purple eyes mirroring the color of the dark sky above them.

"I probably deserved that," Valois admitted quietly. "I understand that you hate me, but please, hear me out. The man who summoned me has noticed my sudden disappearance and will be calling me back hear shortly, so I do not have much time." She removes one hand from the crystal ball to move a dreadlock from her face. "I do not mean to hurt you. I do not want to even be on hostile terms. I brought you here so that I wouldn't have to kill you once he learned he was being tailed." A worried look glazed over her face as she glances at the glass orb. "I will try to see your brother and give him another one of these so that you two may communicate vocally through them. I will not be able to release you from this world until he is dead, and I will need all three of you to break the bond held between us." Dean watched a sincere look flash in her eyes as she handed him the orb. He looked down on it in confusion.

"How does it work?" he asked her.

"Place both of your hands on it. If you help me with this, I will reward you in ways that you can't even imagine. I promise, both of you will be grateful for the rest of your lives."

Dean and Castiel exchanged glances and nodded at her. She smiled softly before spinning again in a circle and disappearing, a small flower emerging from where she stood. "_Lust lotus,_" Dean thought to himself, though he was unsure why. What made him think of something he had never even heard of? He walked back to Castiel, who stood there uncomfortably.

"I guess we're stuck together for a little while," he told the angel. Castiel nodded in return and sat down, leaning against the tree. He watched the leaves dance in the stilled wind before closing his eyes and dozing into a relaxing slumber. As he slept, beautiful green emerald eyes and dirty blond hair styled in the front appeared wherever he looked in his dream, and he unconsciously smiled to himself.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: I can guess you all have been waiting for the actual Destiel part to come in. I'm not quite ready to introduce that yet, but I found something that could be the best of both worlds. I have had absolutely NOTHING to do today, so I'm kinda just typing away at the story and uploading as I finish each chapter. This one is the longest so far (though it probably isn't even that long). Thanks for reading!**_

* * *

"_Lust lotus…_" The words rang through Dean's mind like a broken record. What was it for? Whatever it was, it happened when he saw that damn flower that Valois left behind. The beauty on this plant was extraordinary. The petals were a deep crimson, with black strands trailing up from the stem to the bud of the flower in the center. It had a shape somewhere in between that of a rose and a lotus. It radiated a faint light—if Dean can even call it that. The aura was dark red, nearly black, as if a pool of blood evaporated into a mist form and surrounded it. Death probably would have enjoyed this flower, Dean thought. Though, he probably wasn't even aware that this world existed. Dean broke out of his flower-induced trance-like state and glanced over at the sleeping angel by the tree. Castiel seemed so peaceful, as if there was nothing going on and they weren't locked in a different dimension. A smile spread across Dean's face.

"Dude's gonna be sleeping forever," Dean said quietly to himself. He didn't want to awaken him. Castiel was basically human now, and his vessel Jimmy probably hasn't slept in ages. Instead of trying to wake the sleeping angel up, Dean laid down in the grass and stared back at the mysterious flower. He felt his eyes start to grow tired as they began to flutter shut, threatening sleep. Just as he fell into his dreamland, he caught a glimpse of the aura surrounding the flower as it pulsed outward slightly…

* * *

Dean sat in a king sized bed. He shot glances around the candlelit room, which was covered in red entirely. Red wallpaper, red furniture; even the bed he was lying on was red. The only thing that wasn't red was the black door ahead of him. He was unaware of where exactly he was at. It took the hunter a moment to realize that he was entirely nude under the blankets. He was going to get up and explore the area beyond the door when it opened.

Dean's jaw hung down slightly as a young, sexy blonde woman entered the room, dressed in a black bunny outfit. He felt himself get excited, yet his member was still limp. Strange, normally seeing someone dressed like this in a bedroom had him skyrocketing down south.

"I have what you need…" the girl muttered seductively, winking at Dean. His green eyes reflected beautifully in the candlelight.

"Oh, yes you do," the hunter replied huskily. The bunny girl giggled and stepped out of the room, closing the door. Dean cocked his head in confusion. Where did she go? He smiled when the door opened again, revealing electric blue eyes, a heap of dark, disheveled hair, and pale skin complexion…

Castiel?

The angel stood in the doorway, clad in a sleeveless black leather shirt and tight black leather pants. He wore a chain as a belt, though it was clearly for accessorizing. The pants showed off Castiel's muscular legs while the top sported Castiel's thinly built torso. He had a swimmer's build, Dean noticed. The hunter felt his dick twitch under the sheets as it started to rise. Castiel walked slowly over to Dean, adding a sway to his hips. Dean licked his lips; he was getting harder with each passing moment. As Castiel got onto the bed and climbed over him, he could feel his dick throb with ecstasy.

"You ready, big boy?" Castiel whispered in his gravelly voice. A shiver surged along Dean's spine, causing him to exhale deeply. He nodded, and Castiel leaned in and smashed their lips together. Dean slid his hands along Castiel's back and cupped the angel's ass tightly. Fuck, he was so turned on. Castiel broke the kiss and began to straddle the hunter, kissing his neck and biting slightly. Dean moaned slightly in pleasure. He felt his hard-on rub against the angel's leather-clad ass. Castiel slid down and trailed luscious kisses down Dean's neck to his nipple, then along his abs. He bit into the other man's waistline, causing him writhed underneath the angel. Castiel looked him and met with emerald orbs that were filled to the brim with lust and smiled.

"She had what you needed." Dean's mouth gaped in pleasure after hearing these words and watching Castiel flick his tongue along the underside of the tip of the hunter's throbbing cock before placing his lips around it. Castiel closed his eyes and grabbed the base of the member with one hand, bobbing his head up and down. Dean clenched onto the bed sheets and stared at the ceiling, his vision going white. He wasn't going to last long if Cas kept this up. Castiel released Dean's swollen dick with an audible pop and resumed the straddling. Dean grabbed the bottom of the leather tank and pulled it off of the sweaty angel, revealing a nicely-toned torso. Damn, he was hot, Dean thought. Castiel pulled the chain out of his belt loops.

"What are you gonna do with that?" Dean said roughly in between his panting. Castiel shifted upwards, grabbed Dean by both arms, and lifted them above his head towards the beams of the headboard, meanwhile shoving his bulge into the hunter's face. Dean mouthed at Castiel's dick through the leather while the angel tied his hands to the bed with the chain. Castiel reached under the pillow and pulled out a bottle of lube before slipping off his own pants.

Dean stared in between Castiel's legs. "Goddamn," he said out loud, the lust evident in his voice. Castiel smiled playfully and coated Dean's cock generously with lube before sliding down slowly on it. Dean moaned loudly. Castiel was so tight and hot inside, and the chain bondage turned him on even more. The angel started to bounce himself up and down on Dean's shaft, moaning and holding his hands behind his head, his elbows pointed forward. Dean thrusted himself slightly along with Castiel's motions, his head swimming in lust and ecstasy. He could feel his orgasm building up inside of him as he thrusted himself harder into Castiel's ass. Moans from the angel became near screams as he felt the hunter's large member ram into him. Dean's body tensed up from holding in his orgasm. He came inside of Castiel with a large, pleasurable scream, watching as the shadow of angel wings flare out from the angel's back. Castiel leaned over, panting, encasing Dean's lips with his own.

* * *

Dean woke up to find himself groggily staring at Castiel, his hand down his own pants. He had been dreaming the entire thing. As he regained his consciousness, he noticed that his boxers were soaked in precum and he had a raging hard-on. Was he masturbating in his sleep to a sex dream of Castiel? Nonetheless, he couldn't leave it hanging there. He got up and walked to about ten feet behind the tree, pulled his pants and boxers down the entire way, got on his knees, and started pumping his swollen cock. He tried to think of some of his other fantasies; he settled with two busty blondes by the lake. Yet no matter how much he tried, his mind reverted back to blue eyes, messy hair, and chains. He massaged his cock faster each time the image appeared in his mind, and as he pictured Castiel riding his dick on the bed, he blew his load all over the grass. He placed his free hand over his mouth to muffle his pleasured moans.

Once he came down from his orgasm-induced high, Dean wiped the sweat of his face, feeling ashamed. He just jacked off to the mental image of a fucking dude. He wasn't even gay! Before Dean could make sense of what was going on, he heard a soft groan from behind him. Shit, Castiel was waking up, and his dick was still hanging out. He pulled his pants back up quickly and zipped them before going over to meet Castiel.

"Dean…" he muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, Cas?"

Castiel looked up in shock, his electric eyes gleaming under the violet sky at the hunter's emerald ones. Mental images of Castiel flew through Dean's head, and he felt his dick twitch in his pants. "I… uh…"

"Come on, man, spit it out." The blowjob scene appeared in Dean's head as he said that.

"I feel uncomfortable right now."

Dean cocked his head. "What's wrong?"

"Something feels weird and wet in my pants, and I don't know what it is…" Castiel trailed off. It was embarrassing, really. He had drifted off into sleep and all he remembered was seeing deep, forest-green and emerald eyes, dirty blond hair, and an incredibly attractive male body. Next thing he knew, he woke up and he felt pressure and wetness in his pants.

Dean had to turn away from laughing so hard. Castiel glared at him, obviously upset. Can't Dean see he was having an issue?

"Cas, man, you had a wet dream," Dean said between laughs. This whole thing was hilarious.

"I don't understand, what is a wet dream?"

Dean stopped laughing and sat next to Castiel. He forgot that Cas was a virgin, and had never even pleasured himself in any way. If he was going to be human in this fucked-up realm, then he was going to experience all of the perks of being human; horniness being one of them.

"Listen, Cas… a wet dream is…" He tried to find the right words to explain it. Castiel stared at him in curiosity. "A wet dream is when you think of someone or something while you sleep and it gets you excited. Like, sexually excited."

Castiel's blue eyes widened with surprise. Sexually? He had forgotten that was part of being human. Eat, sleep, reproduce; that's all they ever do out of instinct.

Then it hit him like a train at high speed. The green eyes, dirty blond hair, and beautiful body all belonged to Dean. He had been dreaming sexually about Dean! This was not good. Not good at all. He didn't understand these emotions and now he's lusting after Dean? This isn't right.

"Uh, hello, Cas?" Dean tried getting his attention. He was seemingly lost in thought. "You there?"

"So I was having sexual dreams?"

"Apparently so. And I think it has something to do with that flower. I—" He turned around to point at the flower, but cut himself short when he realized the flower was gone. He searched the area for it. "Where the fuck did it go?"

"Oh," Castiel piped in, "you mean _this_ flower?" Dean whirled around to see that the flower had grown under the base of the tree. Well it didn't just grow legs, walk over here, and plant its happy ass back into the ground. How did it get over here?

Dean nodded his head at the angel, more perplexed than ever before. "Yeah…" he said slowly. "That one." Castiel reached over to pick it.

"Stop!"

Dean and Castiel turn around and see Valois behind them, extending her arm out. She performed a small and simple dance, and the flower moved away from the tree to an area somewhere down the hill. The two men stare at her in confusion.

"What the hell is that thing?" Dean asked furiously. "I had the craziest fucking dream after looking at it!"

Valois twirled her arm around and opened her hand, revealing the head of a flower identical to the one that the Skulletra moved. Dean and Castiel both stared at it, its aura suppressed by Valois' magic.

"The official name for it," she began, "is Cupid's Lament. When a true love bound in Heaven becomes severed, usually by one being unfaithful or murdered, the Cupid that shot both of them with their arrows dies. Their forms then fall to the earth in a black raindrop, forming this flower. Skulletra have a natural sense in finding these flowers, and will travel around the world in disguise to find them before anyone else does. We guard them within our own realms that we create for them." She paused for a second, looking into Dean's eyes. "One may call them 'lust lotuses'."

Dean's eyes instantly widened. That was the name that had been ringing in his head the entire time they had been there. "What properties does this flower have?" he asked her.

"The main one they have is—" she tried to finish, but she was zapped out of there by a flash of light. That wasn't the normal way of her teleportation methods.

"Valois?" Dean yelled into the void. "Valois! Dammit!" He kicked the ground again. Castiel approached him from behind.

"She must have been summoned for some task," he tried to assure Dean. Something had really gotten into him. Why was he so interested in this flower?

* * *

_**A/N: Woo, smut! I figured with this, I could at least not introduce Destiel entirely into the plot yet, but still have something with them in it. Don't worry, I still have more to go! Also, in the event that I do write another dream scene... anyone care to give some suggestions as to what kind of smutty things they would be doing? **_

**_Thank you all for reading so far! I'll try to keep it as updated as possible!_**


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: So, this is my third chapter that I have written and posted today. I haven't had anything to do today, so I figured I would get some writing in. I will be taking a bit of a break (maybe). Thanks for reading! Don't worry, we'll be getting back to Sam soon :)**_

* * *

Dean sat up against the crimson-leaved tree, staring at the Cupid's Lament. He couldn't even look at Cas because of the dream he had earlier. How could he? He just watched himself fuck the angel while being tied to the bed by a chain. Kinda hard to look at someone the same after that. He felt his cock start to swell against his jeans. Dammit! This was the last thing he needed! Dean was drowning himself so far in self-loathing that he didn't notice Castiel come up behind him.

"Dean? Are you okay?" Castiel asked. He had been looking to see if any stars were in the faux-sky that they were under when he noticed the hunter slamming the back of his head into the tree. Dean jumped up slightly in surprise and turned to face electric blue spheres staring down at him.

"Dammit Cas, don't scare me like that!"

"I don't understand how I could have scared you, Dean; we are the only ones here." The hunter scoffed and returned to staring at the flower. Castiel sat down next to him—dangerously close, Dean noticed. He felt his cock throb in his pants. He was trying to avoid thinking about the guy, and then he just comes down and sits next to him. What the hell?

"Dean?" Castiel uttered out of nowhere. The hunter turned his head to meet those same electric spheres he locked gazes with a few moments ago. Dean seemed to get lost in the angel's eyes as he pictured Castiel's pink, kissable lips planted on his own. He wanted to lean in and taste the inside of Cas' mouth, he wanted to lay him on the grass and touch every inch of his body, he wanted to—fuck! His dick was solid rock now. He needed to stop thinking about this shit. He moved his hands over his crotch in a discreet manner to avoid suspicion.

"Dean? Did you not hear my question?"

Dean snapped out of his trance-like state. When did Cas ask him something? "Yeah, of course, but can you run it by me again?"

"I asked you what I should do about the thing in my pants." Castiel said, clearly embarrassed. Dean's face flushed red. He wanted _what_?!

"Um…" the hunter stuttered, "what's wrong with it?"

"It's uncomfortable. It's up against my undergarments in a weird way and it no longer just hangs there."

Dean chuckled slightly. Oh God, here we go, he thought. "Cas, that's called an erection."

"How does it go away?" Castiel's curious and gravelly voice was sending shivers along Dean's spine. Does he need to…? No. Cas can figure it out on his own.

"Well, for one, you can try taking a piss." There, that should be the best way to solve things.

"If by piss, you mean urination, I did that earlier somewhere over there," Castiel replied innocently as he pointed somewhere to the left of them.

Shit, Dean thought. We're gonna have to do this the hard way.

"Well, there's one other way to get rid of it," Dean smirked, "and you're probably going to enjoy it." Castiel cocked his head in curiosity. What was Dean saying? "Cas," Dean continued, "you need to learn to masturbate."

Castiel's eyes widened. What was he talking about? "What is… masturbating?" He let the word roll off of his tongue to make sure he said it right.

"Well…" Dean began to explain. This was already embarrassing. "Masturbating is when you kinda just massage yourself down there with your hand. Once you start, you know what to do."

Castiel sat for a moment, then instantly lit up; Dean was confused by this. "I know what that is now; I've seen you doing it before."

"You WHAT?!" Dean screamed, his face flushing red in embarrassment. Cas had walked in on him before?!

"Yes, Dean. I flew down one time to check up on you. Sam had gone and you were laying on your bed, doing just that. I wasn't sure what it was, but it looked rather personal…" Castiel trailed off a bit. "So I left right away."

Dean wanted to set himself on fire. At the same time, though, it kinda turned him on. He didn't think his cock could have gotten any harder, but it did. The shaft painfully pressed against his jeans. "Okay…" he finally got to saying, "so you got this or what?"

"I… I think so."

"Alright, go back there somewhere behind the tree. I won't look." He turned to face the flower again. Castiel walked behind the tree and stopped. A part of Dean wanted to turn around and secretly watch the angel as he tried to jerk himself off; the other part wanted to slam his face into a brick wall for sexualizing a dude.

"Uh… Dean?" Castiel called out.

"What?" the hunter replied, struggling to keep his gaze on the flower. Its aura began pulsing like it did before he fell asleep.

"I… what do I do from here?"

Dean stood up, almost involuntarily. "Dammit, Cas," he exclaimed as he walked over to the angel, who was standing there awkwardly. "Hold still," he commanded as he unzipped Castiel's dress pants and slid them down for him. Dean was nearly drooling all over himself at the sight of Castiel's erect member. He was bigger than the hunter thought he would be.

"Dean, I… uh…" Castiel tried to say something, but he kept falling short. He was unsure of what to do, and absolutely shocked at Dean's actions right then.

"Shut up and sit down." Castiel obeyed the command, sitting his bare ass on the soft grass. Dean unzipped his own pants and dragged them down, exposing his swollen cock. Castiel's eyes widened as he stared at Dean, who sat down next to him. What was going on?

"Look here," Dean instructed. "Wrap your hand around like this…" The hunter snaked his fingers around his own shaft. He could feel it throbbing, already aching for release. He groaned slightly under his breath. Castiel mimicked Dean's motion. "Alright, good, now just… ah…" He began tunneling his cock slowly, running his thumb across the tip each time his hand came up. Castiel carefully studied this for a few moments before trying on his own. Dean looked over and watched the angel pump his erection. The low groans coming from Castiel surged a wave of pleasure through the hunter's entire being. Fuck, he was so horny.

"How am I doing?" Castiel grunted, looking at Dean's face. Dean, who had tilted his head back and closed his eyes, just nodded his head. Castiel kept stroking himself as he watched Dean. This man's beauty was beyond anything else, Castiel thought. A new feeling had washed through the angel's body; he didn't know what it was, but it made him feel good. Suddenly, Castiel felt a rushing feeling in his groin. What was this? "Dean, something's happening!" he called out.

"Let it happen, Cas," Dean moaned out, his head still thrown back.

"What is it?" Castiel asked, concerned.

"Watch and you'll see…" Dean said, pointing at his own cock. Castiel observed closely as Dean's body tensed up. He heard Dean as he moaned loudly in pleasure, his eyes half lidded and mouth gaped, as white liquid shot from the end of his cock all over his legs and the grass. Watching that was all Castiel needed to blow his own load onto his shirt, rushes of pleasure and ecstasy pulsing through his body. Whatever he had felt during that, he enjoyed immensely.

"Shit," Dean said as he looked over at Castiel, who had cum all over his shirt. "We don't have anything to clean you with."

"It's fine, Dean, I can take it off," Castiel remarked in his low voice, slipping out of his trench coat. He removed his tie and unbuttoned the white shirt, sliding him arms out of it to reveal a light-colored undershirt. Dean stared hungrily as he scanned Castiel's body from head to toe. The angel had a wonderful, sexy build, he thought.

Dean smacked himself in the forehead. Dammit! What did that bitch do? He felt himself lust after Castiel in ways he had never thought about women. And he had done a lot of shit with a lot of women, too.

"Dean, I—" Castiel started, but couldn't finish. Dean's lips were devouring his own with sheer fervor. The hunter climbed on top of the other man, kissing him voraciously. He placed his hands on both sides of the angel's head as he bent down and bit gently into his clavicle, surfacing a moan from Castiel.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Castiel questioned, his voice quivering huskily.

"Shut up and enjoy it," Dean said into the angel's neck before resuming the make-out session. Their tongues danced along each other, though Castiel was not as enthusiastic at first. Eventually, he fell victim to the kiss and wrapped his arms around the hunter, pulling him closer. After a few minutes, Dean pulled off of Castiel and sat in the grass, ashamed.

"I'm sorry…" he pleaded, "I don't know what came over me. And please… don't tell Sammy.

* * *

Sam frantically searched the entire town for Dean and Castiel. The park, the bar, the hotel; neither of them could be found. He returned to the hotel room and called Bobby, who answered almost instantly.

"_You boys found anything yet?_"

"Bobby, Dean and Cas are gone." The fear was apparent in Sam's voice.

"_What? What the hell happened?_"

"I think the Skulletra got to them. There was a bone left on the nightstand when I got home."

"_Skulletra? Mind telling me what the hell that is?_"

"Dammit, Bobby, look it the fuck up yourself!" Sam yelled as he nervously ran his fingers through his hair. There was a deadly silence on the other end of the line.

"_Listen, Sam, I know you're upset._" Bobby's voice was calm and collected. "_But you need to relax if you want to find them. Call me when they come back, alright?_"

Sam fought back tears. "Okay," he said quietly before hanging up the phone and tossing it on the bed.

"You okay, sweetheart?" A French voice echoed through the room. Sam spun around to meet eye-to-eye with the Skulletra that took his brother away, possibly even killed him. She was holding a glass orb in her hand.

"You fucking bitch!" Sam screamed, lunging towards her. He pinned her against the wall, yet she kept a peaceful expression on her face. "Where's my brother?!"

"I'd prefer you call me Valois," she responded. "And if you let me go, maybe I'll tell you where your brother is like I planned to originally do." Sam backed off of her and sat on the bed. "Catch," she said, throwing the glass orb at the tall hunter. He caught it and stared into it, seeing his own reflection in it.

"What do I do with this?" he asked. Her purple eyes gleamed in the sunlight that poured through the window.

"Place both hands on it, and talk. You'll find where your brother is." She twirled around in a circle and teleported off somewhere. Sam looked down at the orb. He placed his large hands around it like she instructed.

"Dean? Castiel?"

* * *

Dean and Castiel laid in the grass in awkward silence, staring at the violet sky. Neither of them wanted to talk about what had just transpired between them. Dean mentally kicked himself. Why the fuck did he do that? He had no right to pounce on Cas like he did. Before he could think on it more, a voice broke the silence.

"_Dean? Castiel?_"

Dean shot up and located the source of the voice. It was radiating from the glass orb that Valois had gifted to them. The hunter rushed over and lifted the orb up into both of his hands.

"Sam!" he yelled into the orb.

"_Oh thank God,_" Sam said through the orb. Funny, Dean thought. Not even the strongest military satellite could allow them to talk right now, and here they are, talking through a crystal. "_I thought you were dead. Where's Cas?_"

"He's right next to me. Listen, you have to trust Valois. She doesn't want to hurt anyone."

"_Yeah, whatever. Where are you? I'm coming to get you._" Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. How was he going to explain this?

"You can't," Castiel intervened. Thank you, Cas!

"_What do you mean?_"

"We're stuck in a world that Valois created for us to reside in. She's afraid that when her summoner learns that we're tailing him, he'll send her to kill us."

"_Can't she refuse and just bring you guys back?!_"

"No, Sam," Castiel continued. "When a monster is bound by a spell, they must do the entire bidding of the summoner. Regardless of the creature, even if it were Lucifer himself, they cannot refuse to carry out each task, or they will die. If Valois dies, she won't be able to bring us back."

"_So she should just bring you both back now!_"

"She can't right now," Dean interrupted. "Her summoner has her on close tabs; she can't come visit us to bring us back. Listen, Sammy, we need you to kill the summoner so that Valois can bring us back. There's no room for bullshit either, you hear me? You are not to spare his life under ANY circumstance, or we will never be able to come back." There was a long silence on Sam's end of the orb connection. Eventually, he spoke up.

"_Okay. I'll do it._"

"Atta boy," Dean said playfully. "Now, go find the summoner and take him out. Just ring us if you need us."

"_Gotcha._" Dean felt the connection drop between the orbs. He looked over at Castiel and met with shining, oceanic eyes. Yet, those eyes weren't staring at Dean; they were staring PAST him.

"Dean…" Castiel muttered and pointed over Dean's shoulder. Dean followed the angel's finger and saw the Cupid's Lament pulsing threateningly. The black aura swirled up in a large, ominous cloud. Dean took a defensive stance in front of Castiel, attempting to guard him from whatever was going on. When the aura disappeared, Valois stood in its place.

"I don't have much time," the Skulletra said frantically.

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry for the huge cliffhanger! I felt the chapter needed to end somewhere. I will pick back up with this sometime in the next few days. :)**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Hey guys, I know I have been uploading like crazy. I had yesterday and today off from work and no one has wanted to hang out with me so I've been sitting in my room all day with nothing better to do than to upset this! Of course, I don't mind. This chapter is going to be slightly shorter than the last three chapters because I hit a slight bit of writer's block. I hope you all are enjoying the story so far! :)**_

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"You mind telling us what the hell is going on right now?" Dean directed at Valois. He was under the impression that she couldn't come back until her summoner was dead. Now she was standing there, coming out of the flower that _she was supposed to fucking explain about before she left before._ Dammit, bitch, make up your damn mind!

"My summoner is currently undergoing carnal relations with an unknown female. I took the time to come here momentarily. He doesn't last long." Dean furrowed his brow, not entirely understanding what she was trying to say. Castiel seemed to catch this notion, and proceeded to interrupt.

"She means her summoner took a woman home with him and they're having sexual intercourse," he clarified for the hunter. Dean just raised his eyebrows and returned his gaze back to Valois.

"Alright, Frenchie, you got some answers for us," Dean said roughly. He wasn't in the mood for bullshit at the moment.

"Three questions. Quickly." The haste in the Skulletra's voice shone thoroughly.

"Where's Sammy, when do we get out of here, and what the fuck is that damn flower for?!" Dean asked, the last question coming out as a shout. That flower had been pissing him off ever since he had woken up from that dream.

"Your brother is still on the earthly plane, don't worry," Valois assured. "I assume you asked him to kill my summoner. You'll get out of here as soon as that occurs."

Castiel stepped forward. "Valois, I am of understanding that if you disobey him, you will die. Regardless of whether we can kill you or not. What happens if that occurs before you can take us out of here?"

Valois swallowed a lump in her throat, a guilty look in her eye. "Well…" she began, "it would be good and bad."

"Continue," Dean commanded.

"The bad is that you two would be trapped here forever." Dean's eyes widened horrifically. He opened his mouth to scream, to retort, to do _something_, but Valois cut him off. "I'm not done yet. The good part of it is that you two could alter the world to your own fitting. Whatever you wanted, it would become. The only things you wouldn't be able to do are bringing someone here or leaving."

"I don't give a fuck about that," Dean snapped. "I want out of here. Don't you disobey a word he says, and get us out of here when he dies so that we can break the bond."

"And if he tells me to kill your brother?"

Dean froze up instantly. He hadn't thought about that. Valois' violet-sky eyes pierced through the hunter's soul. How could he respond? He wanted out of there, but he'll lose it if Sammy died for him. He stood there, dumbfounded, unable to respond.

Valois blinked disappointedly at Dean and turned around, kneeling at the flower. She stroked its blood-red petals, allowing the aura to dance around her fingertips.

"Cupid's Lament," she explained, "has the ability to arise lust between two people within its vicinity. The aura you see is the remnant of a cherub's powers."

"Wait," Dean stopped her, "so you dropped this flower here, hoping that we would fuck?"

Valois shook her head. She stood up and turned to face emerald eyes staring angrily at her. "No. Cupid's Lament doesn't match together sexual partners." She stepped closer to Dean until she was just close enough to reach her right hand out and cup his cheek. Dean shuddered at her touch; the power on this chick was intense.

"What it does," she whispered, "is advance what was already there."

Dean stepped back in shock. "What the hell does that me—" He tried to ask, but she had already spiraled around and disappeared.

"Dammit!"

A French voice echoed throughout the realm where they stood. It had no source; it was just there.

"His name is Mark Gassilon. Tell your brother."

Dean stood there, confused. Advance what was already there? He had no feelings for men, let alone Castiel. So why was this coming up now? He turned around to meet with those same electric blue eyes that succumbed into a trance from earlier. No matter how much he told himself he only wanted women, he couldn't help but get lost in the features that Castiel displayed. The dark, messy hair, the pale skin tone that illuminated in the world they stood in, the way the undershirt fit snugly onto his swimmer-toned torso; he wanted to fall victim to every inch of the angel.

Castiel gazed deep into the hunter's eyes, emerald spheres that sucked him deep into the hypnosis called Dean. He didn't understand these feelings. He flew through the memories in his head—ones from before all this. He raised Dean from Hell. He always came down from Heaven when Dean called. He repaired Dean's injuries without hesitation. And last, he always forgave Dean when the Winchesters did something stupid (for example, start the apocalypse).

Did Castiel… _love_ Dean?

"Dean? Are you okay?"

Dean snapped out of his trance and looked at the blue-eyed man in front of him. "Yeah Cas, I'm fine. Listen, about earlier…" he trailed off, unknowing of what to say.

"Dean, I understand." Castiel responded. A small smile spread across his face, which drove Dean nuts. The hunter perked his head up slightly.

"You do?" he asked. Castiel replied with a nod, though disappointed settled in his eyes.

"Yes. You did not intend for that to occur. So it shall not happen again." Castiel walked away back to the tree slowly and sat against it. Dean watched as the angel laid his head against the tree and closed his eyes, drifting off into a soft sleep. He fought with everything in his power not to walk over there, hold the angel in his arms, and fall asleep right next to him. But he knew this was all an illusion; a trick created by the flower. He didn't love Castiel. He couldn't. The dude was a freaking angel; he had angel business to take care of rather than dealing with Dean's needy ass all the time. All of this was because the stupid flower was releasing some kind of pheromone or some shit into the air that made him horny for the first person he looked at. Dean angrily stomped off in the direction of Cupid's Lament. He kneeled down and pulled on it tight until it tore off its roots, and he held it in his hands.

"Fuck you and your lust bullshit," he uttered to it. He was going to throw it across the field, anything, just to somehow get rid of it, when it simply turned to dust in his hands. He stared at the black powder in his hand with perplexity before nodding in approval and turning around.

"Sonofabitch!" he exclaimed loudly as he looked directly in front of him. There stood _two_ Cupid's Laments, growing side by side, their auras fluctuating madly. Dean approached them, ready to tear both of them out, when a crimson tendril extended from the ominous cloud and slashed at the hunter's face. Dean stepped back and winced; he felt his warm blood slowly trickle down his face. Apparently, the demonic plants didn't want to be touched again. Feeling defeated, he strode slowly back to the tree where Castiel slept. He pulled out the glass orb and placed both of his hands on it.

"Hey, Sammy, you there?" There were a few moments of no response before the orb lit up faintly and Dean could hear his brother's voice.

"_Yeah, I'm here. What is it?_"

"Valois stopped by briefly. Apparently her summoner had been getting it on with a chick he picked up, and he used the time to her advantage." Dean could almost hear Sam shaking his head, laughing slightly.

"_Alright then. Funny, she didn't stop by for me._"

"She didn't have much time. Plus, she needed to answer a few questions we had." He glanced over at Castiel to make sure he wasn't awoken by the conversation. "Listen, Sam. She told me before she left that the name of her summoner is Mark Gassilon. I assume that he was the guy that Sherry was describing to us, the one that harassed Jessie. Find him and kill him."

"_I'll get right on that. And then this Valois chick will bring you back?_"

"Her word was sincere. But make sure not to let Mark dish out any commands to her. If she refuses to follow any of them, she'll die, and we won't ever be able to come back."

Sam swallowed hard, audible through the orb connection. "_Understood._" Dean saw the light fade out of the orb, signaling that Sam left the conversation. The hunter looked over at Castiel. The angel was still sound asleep. Dean admired the calm, peaceful expression that veiled Castiel's face as he slept. Desire swept over the hunter's entire body, and he let himself succumb to it as it decided his own actions for him.

"Mmm… uh… Dean, what are you doing?" The angel said groggily as he felt himself being gently laid on the grass, two muscular arms wrapping around his torso. He could feel Dean's hot breath emit against his neck and the back of his ear. A little smile slipped out; he blushed slightly as he hoped Dean couldn't see it.

"Shut up and go back to sleep, Cas," Dean commanded in a hushed voice. Castiel's dick gave an excited twitch at the sound of it. He wasn't sure what's been getting into Dean lately, but he rather enjoyed it. He closed his eyes again, feeling the warmth of the hunter's body pressed up against his own.

Dean smiled into Castiel's neck as he spooned himself into the angel's figure. He knew Castiel probably felt the raging hard-on he was sporting at the moment, but he didn't care. He wanted to lay there with Cas and drown in his own ecstasy of even being able to touch him. Dean could no longer deny what was going on to himself. He wanted Cas in every way possible.

As the hunter closed his eyes and began to drift into a deep sleep, he finally began to understand what Valois meant when she explained the flower's properties. The flower senses hidden love and passion between two people… and allows those feelings to finally surface.

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_**A/N: Next chapter will focus on Sam's POV. We'll give Destiel a break in their own world for a little bit. Reviews would be greatly appreciated! Followers, thanks for keeping up to date! You're all awesome!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Hey guys, I procrastinated slightly with this, to be rather honest. I had work at first, and then ended up just taking a four hour nap for the hell of it. But, it is slightly longer than the rest of the chapters to make up for it. Like I promised, this one is with Sam's POV back in the real world. Again, thank you for keeping with the story! Reviews would be greatly appreciated!**_

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Sam quickly opened his laptop and opened up the Internet browser. Mark Gassilon… that was the name Dean had given to him to identify the summoner. He needed to figure out where this guy lived before he could send Valois back out to kill someone again. He hacked into the local government database and searched the files for any information he could get on Mark.

"Chestin Street," Sam said out loud to himself. He grabbed his handgun and keys and bolted out the hotel room door to the Impala. Completely ignoring all speed laws, he zoomed down each twist and turn until he reached Chestin Street. He parked the Impala a few houses down the street from Mark's house and ceased the rumbling of the engine. There was no car in the driveway; Sam assumed there was no one home, though it was nighttime. He nonchalantly walked up to the house and fished out his lockpick from his jacket. He silently broke his way into the house and closed the door behind him, refusing to utter a sound.

"There you are," a hushed voice came from across the presumably large living room; it was too dark to tell for sure. Sam's heart nearly stopped in fear, but was able to relax when he saw Valois' figure lying peacefully on the couch. Though Sam could barely see her, he could tell that she had a look of concern sprawled along her face. She motioned for the hunter to sit on the couch next to her as she sat up; Sam had to narrow his eyes in the darkness to see the gesture, but obeyed her silent command.

"Right, sorry," Valois said softly as he wove her fingers into a small waltz to create a small flame in the palm of her hand, illuminating the spacious living room around them.

"Where's Mark?" Sam questioned. He didn't want to waste any more time than was necessary.

"He went out earlier, but I haven't a clue where he went. I am unsure of when he will return though."

"I see," Sam replied, almost awkwardly. He stared at the flame dancing in the Skulletra's hand. Had he been in any other situation, with a human girl, he would have found this rather romantic. However, regardless of how stunning or kind Valois was, he didn't think of her in that way. She wasn't exactly human.

Sam mentally smacked himself on the head. He had forgotten about Madison and Ruby. He could almost hear his older brother calling him a dirty hypocrite. Either way, he wasn't interested in Valois. Why was he even having this mental conversation?

"So what do you think we should do?" Valois asked, finally breaking the silence. Sam snapped out of his reverie and focused on the current situation. He had a summoner to kill.

"I'll hide somewhere in the house, probably in the bedroom," he proposed. "You do what you can to lure him there." Valois nodded her head in agreement.

"Sam…" she began, cupping her hand on the hunter's cheek. Sam peered into her violet eyes, eerily illuminated by the tiny flame. Sam removed her hand from his face. He didn't want to give her any ideas that he wanted to do anything intimate with her.

"Valois, listen. You're a beautiful person, but I'm not into you like that." The look on his confused face must have been priceless, because the Skulletra's laugh echoed throughout the house.

"Sam, I'm not suggesting intimacy," she managed to breathe out in between laughs. She finally slowed down to a chuckle for continuing what she was going to say. "You are aesthetically pleasing, yes, but that's not what I meant. I wanted to tell you thank you for helping me." Sam smiled awkwardly, the embarrassment flowing through his body like a tidal wave.

"My mistake…" he said sheepishly. Thankfully it was dim, or Valois would have seen the redness that his cheeks were flaunting. He sobered up quickly though as realization dawned on him. "Listen, whatever happens, you can't refuse whatever he might tell you to do, okay? We need you alive to get Dean and Cas out of there."

Valois' eyes flashed something Sam couldn't recognize right away. Sincere regret? "And what happens if he tells me to kill you?"

Sam tensed instantly. The thought had crossed his mind after he broke the orb connection with Dean, but he had already made his decision on it. Still, the question through him off slightly.

"I don't care." Valois' eyes widened in response, her violet irises shining in the dark. Sam continued with his mini speech. "Dean has saved my life more times than I can remember. He even went to Hell just to keep me alive… literally. And when I think about it…" Sam swallowed hard, his jaw line tensing up. He didn't need to cry right now. "I haven't done nearly enough for him. Brothers are supposed to have each other's backs, and I feel like I'm nowhere near holding my end of that unspoken agreement. So if I have to die for you to bring him and Cas back, then so be it."

Valois stared in shock. "Sam," she said in a low tone, "how would Dean feel about this?"

Sam sat in silence, unknowing of how to respond. How would he be able to? He knew the answer. Dean wouldn't be able to live with himself. There's nothing his older brother would be able to do anymore if Sam got himself killed. Dean had already sold his soul once, and even made a deal with Death to make his little brother whole again. If he died now, Dean would have to live with it… if he even could. His train of thought derailed when the room illuminated brightly with car lights.

"He's here," Valois hissed, "get up stairs!" Sam launched himself off of the couch, quickly and (somewhat) silently bolting up the stairs into the master bedroom. His eyes darted around the room until he located the closet and hid himself inside. Downstairs, he could hear Valois speaking with her summoner.

"Hello, Mark."

"Dammit, you French whore," Sam could hear the male voice yell, "I told you to call me master. Remember what happens if you disobey me?"

"I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again." The hunter could hear the shame in her voice. Footsteps sounded lightly from the staircase and progressively became louder as he heard the bedroom door swing open. Sam could hear his heartbeat pound through his entire body; hopefully Mark couldn't hear it, too. Another set of footsteps, lighter than the first and assumingly belonging to Valois, followed close behind.

"You cleaned today, Valois," Mark said, a hint of surprise in his voice, "and I didn't even tell you to."

"I figured it would be a nice treat," the Skulletra responded. Though she was calm and collected, Sam could almost sense the nerve-racking energy she was emitting. He felt it start to mix with his own when the heavier set of footsteps approached the closet.

"Right, well, I've had a long sight, so—" Mark was instantly silenced as Sam lunged out of the closet when he opened the door, tackling him to the ground, gun pointed at his head. The summoner breathed heavily as the large mass of a man sat on top of him, cold steel pressed against his forehead.

"Valois, answer me," Mark exclaimed. "Who is this man?" When Sam looked over to face her, he saw that Valois had seized up, unable to move. She stood frozen like a marionette, seemingly lifeless. Her once beautiful violet eyes faded into a deathly shade of gray.

"His name," the puppet-like Skulletra spoke with an eerily monotone voice, "is Sam. He is a hunter here to kill you in order to free me from my slavery to you." Sam's eyes shot back to Mark, whose dull, brown eyes screamed with fury. Sam instantly understood that Valois could not consciously control her actions as she was commanded. If that was the case, how could she possibly refuse something she was told to do?

Sam placed his finger on the trigger of his pistol, but was sent flying against the wall by an unseen force as "Get him off of me!" echoed throughout the room. He felt his body press up against the wall, unable to shift in any way. Sam remembered the last time he felt this; oh, how he wish he didn't have the memory of it, but he did. The feeling of being helplessly pinned to the wall, watching whatever happens as it unfolds in front of him without having the power to do anything about it.

The time when he watched Dean as he was torn to shreds by Lilith's hellhound.

Mark smiled sadistically as he strode up to Sam and punched him in the gut. Sam winced as the pain surged throughout his abdomen; it made it worse that he couldn't do anything about it, either. "You think you can just walk into my home and end my life without a problem?" the summoner hissed, landing another blow into Sam's stomach. "I have a godlike creature at my disposal!" The last word came as a shout as his fist collided with Sam's nose. The hunter could hear the bones in his nose shatter, yet it was drowned out by the shrill, ear-piercing shriek that emitted from Valois. Mark raised his hands to his own ears to muffle the sound; Sam couldn't lift his arms to do the same. The pain he felt from the scream didn't just reside in his head, but throughout his entire body. He felt lightheaded as warm liquid poured from his ears in a slow streak; he assumed it was his own blood.

Finally, the screaming stopped. Mark lowered his hands and Sam sighed in relief.

"Shit, I forgot," Mark admitted out loud, directed towards Valois. Sam wanted to cock his head in confusion, but telekinetic forces made that too hard. "Your kind is pretty much made of bones; being close to one as it breaks causes an immense amount of pain to you." The words "your kind" came out in a harsh, discriminatory manner. No wonder he targeted gay people, Sam thought. He was a freaking bigot.

"But," Mark continued on his spiel, "you fucking deserve it, bitch. He didn't just get in the house, you LET him in!" He backhanded her forcefully, resulting in the Skulletra falling to the ground. Sam knew that it didn't hurt her physically; it damaged her pride. "You've been working with this fucking hunter ever since he got here. So, you know what you have to do." He turned towards Sam and smirked, almost serial killer-like.

"Kill him."

Sam's heart skipped a beat in his chest. He knew there was nothing that he could do now. After witnessing Valois turn into a standing corpse after being issued a command, he knew that he was drawing his last breath there, in that bedroom. And no one except Dean, Castiel, and Bobby would ever know he died, because Valois could get rid of his body without leaving behind a trace. He closed his eyes and apologized to everyone in his head. To Bobby, for nearly killing the old man when Sam had no soul. To Castiel, for not believing in him as much as he should and taking him for granted.

To Dean, for everything.

The silence that tailed his death sentence was maddening.

"No."

The word rang through the room like a bell on a church tower. Sam opened his eyes and saw Valois stand up weakly, her legs shaking. He thought he could see a small spark leap out of her hair. Mark turned to face the Skulletra, looking as shocked as Sam felt.

"What did you say?" he asked, though it was more of a threat than a question. He tried to stare daggers at Valois, but instantly cowered in fear when her violet eyes flared with rage.

"I said no, you inconsiderate prick!" she shouted, her words loaded with void-shattering power. She slammed her bare foot into the floorboard and grinned sadistically as she watched Mark melt into a boiling pool of blood, his screams echoing throughout the room until they were no more. Sam fell from the wall and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall for support. He smiled, relieved. Valois had just disobeyed her master and killed him on the spot, just to save his life.

Wait.

Valois just disobeyed her master.

He watched in both fear and awe as black flames began to engulf her slowly starting from her feet and licking its way upward. Sam wanted to scream, to tell her to dance the fires away, but his words were lodged in his throat. He couldn't move, even though he wanted to. And this time, there was no telekinetic force to hold him down. Valois turned to face him, a small, pitiful smile on her face. Her violet irises no longer shone with the brilliance they once had, and remained non-dimensional within her eyes. Her face lost the young-looking beauty that graced it before, and instead showed the price of her true age. Sam could feel tears well up in his eyes, but he held them in for as long as possible.

"Tell your brother," Valois whispered, audible over the silent flames that caressed her dreadlocks, "the flower is his gift."

And with that, she was gone. The tears finally fell from Sam's eyes. He'd finally met a monster that never had the intentions of killing him, and risked their lives so that he could live, and now, that was gone. He mentally kicked himself at the word "monster." Valois was no monster, he thought; she was their friend.

And now, Valois was no longer.

He rushed out of the voice as fast as possible. He had left the glass orb in the Impala. His feet pounded against the concrete, throbbing with pain, but Sam didn't care. He needed to tell him brother something, anything. Especially what Valois had said. It was her dying wish, and Sam needed to fulfill it. He tried to unlock the door, but dropped his keys. He looked through the window at the orb; a small crack formed along its surface. Sam didn't have time for this; he slammed his elbow through the window and reached in to grab the orb. He placed both hands on it, tears streaming down his face.

"DEAN!"

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_**Disclaimer: To my knowledge, I created "Chestin Street" off of the top of my head. If that is anyone's actual street, please rest assured that I had no intention of putting your street name on here.**_

_**A/N: Sorry I had to cut it off with such a cliffhanger, but I have to wake up early for work again and I wanted to get this in tonight because I don't know if I'm going to have the time to do anything with the story tomorrow. Reviews would be a blessing, be it positive feedback or constructive criticism, and thank you to those who are following!**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: So, yesterday I had gotten slammed with a ton of work and was just too tired to write. Today is my grandpa's birthday, tomorrow I have work again, so I figured this wouldn't be up until Sunday. However, we aren't doing much today for the birthday, so I found the time to be able to write this (regardless of any procrastination or writer's blocks I may or may not have had... oops). Hopefully you guys enjoy this chapter as well, and thank you for keeping with it all!**_

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Dean awoke to a cold, dark, endless world.

He opened his eyes groggily, attempting to recall what could have happened before he fell asleep. He remembered tearing up the Cupid's Lament to find two growing in its place. He remembered telling Sam the details on Mark. He remembered the warm feeling that washed over his chest as he fell asleep.

Castiel. He had fallen asleep holding Castiel. The longing, cold sensation that currently resided on his chest signaled that the angel wasn't there anymore. He sat up slowly and took his time opening his heavy eyes, and when he finally did, the sight hit him like a train.

They were no longer on a grassy hill with a red-leaved tree. The sky was no longer violet like Valois' soul-piercing eyes, and pulsing black clouds ceased to grace its surface. Everything had been replaced with black. Dean looked down to see nothing holding him up, nowhere to walk. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut like he was falling, but he knew he wasn't. He stood up and darted his eyes frantically around the empty void, searching for the angel he felt like he had just held only moments ago.

"Cas?" Dean called out. His mind jumped to millions of conclusions at once. Was it a dream? Did he die in his sleep? Did _Castiel_ die in his sleep? His entire body shuddered at the thought of his angel passing away quietly in his arms—

"Yes, Dean?" a small, gravelly, familiar voice sent a smile racing across Dean's face. He turned around to face electric blue eyes gazing back at him, a stoic yet calm expression accessorizing them. Dean instantly felt relieved to see that Castiel was okay.

"Oh thank God," Dean muttered, thinking the angel couldn't hear him, though he was apparently wrong.

"God had no part in this, Dean," Castiel responded, furrowing his brow and tilting his head in confusion, completely oblivious to the meaning behind it.

"It's a figure of speech, Cas, you said it when—y'know, never mind," Dean tried to explain, but inevitably gave up. Cas still didn't understand human things, and Dean wasn't about to explain it. "Anyways, you got any idea what's going on?"

"I am unsure. I was reclining at the base of the tree when the field was swallowed by darkness. You awoke shortly after. All that's left is you, me, and those." He punctuated the last word with a nod of the head towards the ground. Dean followed where he was pointing at and was glad to find the glass orb still with them, but infuriated to see the two Cupid's Laments still growing side by side.

"And the fucking flower still stays?" Dean snapped. Castiel made no note of it, but instantly turned his attention towards the ground when a faint light emitting from the orb was caught in the corner of his eye.

"_DEAN_!" Sam's voice echoed from the orb throughout the void of nothingness. Dean nearly fumbled over himself to grab the orb with his hands in order to complete the connection.

"Sam, what's going on?" he shouted. "Everything here is black and—oh shit, this lawn decoration is cracking open!" His heart raced as a small crevice tore its way around the orb, though not threatening enough to break it.

"_Dean…_" Sam's voice sounded horrified. "_Valois is dead._"

Dean almost dropped the glass orb.

"You're kidding me, right?" He tried to sound passive, but inside, he was freaking the hell out. If Valois was dead, then there was no getting out of there… ever.

"_Does it sound like I'm kidding, Dean?!_" Sam shouted from the other end. "_You and Cas aren't ever going to be able to leave!_"

"Look, Sammy, we'll figure something out," Dean assured weakly, glancing over at Castiel, whose expression wasn't as assuring as Dean was trying to come off as. The cracks on the orb grew rapidly. "Cas and I will—"

The orb shattered in his hand, sifting through the air in a gray form of dust. Dean froze in shock momentarily at the sudden explosion of powder.

"SAM!" he screamed into the void. It was no use. The orb was gone, which means he could no longer converse with Sam through it. He could only assume Sam's crystal ball had burst as well. He fell to his knees as the realization hit him that that was the last time he would ever hear his little brother's voice again. The last time he could ever be sure Sammy would still be alive. Tears welled in Dean's eyes; a few slipped down his cheek despite his will to choke them back. He looked down through misty eyes to the phantom floor he was kneeling on. What was he going to do with himself now?

"Dean…" Castiel said quietly. The sound of his name echoed through his ears as Dean looked up to meet those same electric eyes gazing into his watery emerald ones. He hadn't initially noticed that Castiel had kneeled down in front of him as well, emitting a calming energy as if he weren't troubled whatsoever. "It's going to be alright."

And then the tears fell.

"No it won't, Cas," Dean nearly yelled between sobs, "it won't ever be alright again! We're never going to get back and I'm never going to see Sammy or Bobby again and we're going to die here in this empty, black hellhole!" He stood up to turn away and run, just go anywhere, whether he'll really actually _go_ anywhere. He didn't care whether he was just running into eternal darkness or not; he just wanted to leave all of his problems behind at that one spot in the void.

But he didn't run… or more so _couldn't_, because a hand grabbed his shoulder and squeezed tightly before Dean could get his legs moving.

"Dean, turn around," Castiel commanded in the most gravelly and monotone way, yet it had a heavy air of intimidation surrounding it. Dean remembered this voice; he called it the Angel-of-the-Lord tone. Just like Sam had his bitch face, Cas had this. Regardless, he obeyed what he was told and turned slowly to face Castiel. He raised his right hand with utmost grace, the back of it facing Dean to show him what was on it. Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise, speechless.

It was a tattoo of a rib cage. Each rib was a dark violet color—just like Valois' eyes—that faded into a black spinal column that began at the angel's middle knuckle and extended down to the wrist. Dean stared in disbelief. That had definitely not been there before; Dean saw nothing tattooed on Cas' hand earlier when we has assisting the guy with— he cut off the mental image instantly and shuddered, though not out of disgust. He willed his semi-hard cock to kill itself off while he redirected his attention to Cas.

"Where did you get that?" Dean asked, shifting uncomfortably where he stood to prevent from getting any harder at the memories of earlier. Castiel looked back at his hand and gazed upon it longer, his eyes still ridden with shock.

"I don't know," the angel said slowly, "it just… appeared." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Well that's just _great_," Dean replied, almost spitting out the last word. Castiel tilted his head in confusion and Dean sighed. He forgot that the guy didn't understand sarcasm. "When did you get it?" he asked before Castiel could question him on his choice of words moments before.

"As soon as the orb shattered," Castiel answered. "It must have something to do with Valois."

Then it struck Dean.

"Wait…" he said softly, and then gradually got louder, "Valois said that if she died, we wouldn't be able to leave, but we could alter the world to however we wanted. Maybe this thing is what lets us do that."

Castiel's eyes widened in realization. "I understand now," he said, with less enthusiasm than Dean anticipated. "Do you have one on you as well?" Dean checked the back of his hands, looking for another unknown tattoo that resembled bones. When he couldn't find one, he shook his head.

"It may be somewhere else," Castiel concluded. "Take off your clothes."

Dean whirled his gaze back to meet the angel's, who had a determined look in his eye. Shit, this guy was serious. The hunter stood there, shaken at Castiel's request. Did he not know that you don't just _ask_ someone to strip down naked? It wouldn't be just a little awkward though, Dean thought. If he could barely keep from getting aroused at the memory of Cas jerking off like an amateur, how was he going to stand there and let the guy see him completely nude without something perking up down south? His dick already twitched with the idea, and Dean mentally scowled at it for being a traitorous little shit.

"Uh… no thanks, Cas, I can do it myself," Dean said, smiling in a friendly yet sarcastic way. He felt his cheeks turn red and forced himself to twist away from the angel's eyes.

"Dean, how will you know whether it is in an area you can see or not?"

Shit.

Dean didn't think of that.

Now he had no choice but to let Cas see him stark naked if he wanted to figure out where the tattoo was.

Dean let out a slow, deep breath. He kept turned away from Cas.

"Fine," he finally said, "but I ain't turning around. You see the back half of me and that's it, no frontals." Castiel remained silent for a few seconds, setting Dean's nerve on the high edge.

"Very well," Castiel finally complied. Dean nodded his head with a small "okay" and slowly began to strip down. He fingered at the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head, tossing it to the phantom floor.

"Anything yet?" the hunter asked, trying to mask the shakiness in his voice. Thankfully, Castiel wasn't able to tell.

"No, Dean," Castiel said momentarily. Dean sighed and closed his eyes. He could already tell this was going to end badly. He undid the button on his pants and pulled the zipper down, pulling them down to his ankles. He stepped out of the jeans that lied there and stood in his boxers, keeping his back faced rigidly towards Castiel. He looked over his own chest and legs; no bone tattoo to be found. He blushed embarrassingly at the growing tent his undergarments were sporting.

"Still nothing," reached Dean's ears from behind him, and a chill surged through his body. He knew what this meant: down with the boxers. He hesitated immensely before he heard Castiel use his Angel-of-the-Lord voice, and he finally slipped them down to his thighs, his erection springing out when it was finally freed. He felt the angel scan his entire body up and down and prayed to God (even though he was a total douchebag) that Cas couldn't see his incriminating arousal. There was no tattoo anywhere near his dick (or under it, which he tried to check in a subtle manner), and his whole tensed up awaiting Castiel's reply.

"You have no etchings in any place that I could see, Dean," Castiel finally said, breaking the silence that nearly screamed throughout the void. Dean clenched his teeth in anger and embarrassment. He had just stripped naked in front of the angel who had been driving his hormones insane since they came to this world… for absolutely nothing.

"Dammit, Cas," Dean snapped, "at least turn around so I can put my clothes back on!" He stood perfectly still under he heard a shift in Castiel's position, and proceeded to re-clothe himself. He sighed quietly when he felt his full-on erection press painfully into his jeans When he turned around, Castiel was staring at his hand hypnotically, as if he had some sort of epiphany. Dean paced quickly up to the angel and looked into the blue eyes that didn't respond to his presence. "Cas, you okay?"

"I… I think I know how it works now, Dean," Castiel finally said, holding the palm of his hand out. It reminded Dean of how demons usually extended their arm when flinging him to the wall.

"Well?" Dean replied skeptically, "show me."

Castiel nodded and waved his right hand in front of them. At first, it did nothing. He tried swinging his arm quickly, slowly, and in every direction. Still, nothing happened. Dean couldn't help but laugh at the guy's attempt to do… whatever he was doing. He stopped once those stormy blue eyes glared daggers at him, however. Finally, Castiel tried a new approach. He waved his hand gracefully in a dance-like motion, thinking of how Valois performed her magic. Sure enough, the tattoo on his hand pulsed with energy. Dean looked past his hand and couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The black world around them began to vanish bit by bit, a wave of color washing over them. Dean's mouth fell into a gape as he watched the world around him unfold into a familiar setting that he knew all too well, yet loved in the same way.

"Cas…" Dean said quietly, "We're at Bobby's house?" Castiel turned around and smiled at Dean, which sent him into a world of shock on its own. Cas never smiled, and yet the serene feeling it emitted made Dean want to find ways to keep the angel smiling for the rest of their lives.

"It's not exactly Bobby's house," Castiel explained, "but it's close. We can stay and sleep in here for once."

"Great," Dean exclaimed excitingly. He then became aware again of the swelling in his pants. "I'm going to go take a shower." Castiel nodded and Dean bolted inside to the bathroom.

Everything looked exactly the same, and Dean had to give Castiel credit for having such meticulous memory. Upon entering the bathroom, he turned on the water and waited for it to heat up. He clicked the lock on the door behind him, stripped down completely, and stepped into the shower. The warm-yet-not-so-hot water pelted onto his bare skin magnificently, arousing him even more than he already was. Fuck, if he didn't do something about it now, he was going to start aching. He wrapped his hand around the throbbing shaft of his cock and squeezed tightly, massaging it slowly as he closed his eyes. He allowed the memories of his earlier event with the angel flow back into his head; the way Cas pumped himself with inexperience, the small whimpers of pleasure he had made, the look on the angel's face before orgasm… Dean's blood ran white hot through his veins.

"Oh, fuck…" Dean moaned out in a dragging manner, tunneling himself faster than before. A ball of pleasure began forming in his gut, and he felt himself getting close.

A knock sounded from the door. "Dean, are you okay in there?" Castiel called through. Apparently his moan had been a lot louder than he originally thought, and it worried Castiel. Dean smiled at the innocence of the angel.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he shouted from inside the shower, muffling a moan as he kept pumping himself. After a few moments, he heard Castiel walk back down the hallway. The risk of getting caught masturbating to Castiel was more than enough to send Dean over the edge with lust, and he fucked into his hand harder and faster than he demonstrated with Castiel earlier. The ball of pleasure in his gut began unraveling, threatening release.

Dean let out a sharp, muffled moan as his orgasm shot down the wall of the shower. His legs nearly gave out as he massaged the last of his cum from himself. That was one the best self-induced orgasm he'd had since… well, ever. After coming down off of his lustful high, he pressed his forehead against the wall.

"Sonofabitch," he muttered under his labored breath, exhausted. He'd just hammered off to an angel. It seemed almost sacrilegious, and Dean laughed at himself for it. Jacking off to a soldier of God was humorously ironic.

If only it was the real deal.


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: This is the longest chapter that I have written so far. However, I will try to extend the length of other chapters to be just like this. Enjoy!**_

* * *

Dean couldn't stand this goddamn place.

At first, the whole idea of a changeable universe excited him. He could have had anything he wanted if he willed hard enough to make it materialize right in front of him. Hell, he could have even been able to go places he had never dreamed of. Las Vegas, Hollywood, Detroit, even fucking Russia; he could have gone to them all.

But that was all in his daydreams. Before Valois died and Cas got the Skulletra mojo in lieu of him.

Now, just sits around Bobby's house the entire time, drinking beer that Cas imagined in there and watching old movies since they don't get freaking cable or Internet in alternate dimensions. That's all the angel apparently wanted, was to just sit around and do nothing. Dean was livid. If he was gonna have to spend an eternity in Bobby's house, he was going to lose his goddamn mind. Sure, it was comfortable living, but it was _boring_. He cracked open another beer and took a long swig, placing his feet on the coffee table and mentally bitching about everything wrong with this world.

Castiel sat comfortably on the couch, opposite of Dean, staring at the metal box that flashed images across it and spoke from an unidentified source. Dean called this a "T.V", he remembered. It was so interesting to watch these strange humans hold each other up on the boat and then flee it after it hit an iceberg. Why didn't Rose assist Jack onto the door? There was clearly enough space for the both of them, and they could have prayed to the angels to help them as well in their predicament. Now that he thought about it, he had been there at the Titanic; where were these people? He didn't recognize them. After the list of many names he didn't recognize start to fly across the screen, he turned to Dean.

"May we watch it again, Dean?" Castiel asked. He needed to figure out where he was in this "movie". Dean slammed his beer on the table and stood up angrily, facing the confused angel.

"For fuck sake, Cas, we have watched _The Titanic _five goddamn times!" Dean shouted. "I am not sitting through this chick flick crap again!" Castiel tilted his head, perplexed. He knew Dean was angry; Castiel could hear it in the increase in the decibel level of the hunter's voice. But _why_ was he angry?

"Dean, I was there at the Titanic when it happened, and I never once saw these Jack or Rose humans that the cameras constantly focus on, or even myself."

Dean rubbed his temple with his thumbs and furrowed his brow. Holy. Shit. Is this angel freaking retarded? "Cas, the whole love story bullshit is fake. Jack and Rose never existed. This was all for the movie."

Castiel turned his head back to the screen and watched the credits roll. He understood now why he never saw Jack and Rose or himself in the moving pictures. All he could say was "Oh" as he scanned the remote for the off button, pressing it once he located its presence. It seems now that Dean was angry because of the amount of times they sat there together and watched it. Castiel never wanted to watch it alone; though it was interesting, he never trusted the "T.V." He thought it would open up and a demon would crawl through it and kill him in his weakened human state, like in the movie that Dean showed him before. He couldn't remember what it was called; it just scared him.

"Cas, can't we do something different?" Dean suggested. "Like, I don't know, change of scenery? Who knows how long we've been in this place, I'm getting kinda sick of the area." It was true: he had no idea how long ago it was when Valois brought them there. Despite Cas being able to change the world around them, the sky always still remained a deep violet, and all of the clocks in Bobby's house froze at midnight, regardless of how much time went by. They didn't know how many days they had been here or even if it was day or night in the real world. It was like being trapped in a windowless room with everything in existence to do for fun. Dean felt like he _really_ needed to go to a bar.

Castiel paused before turning his head away, shamed. "I can't, Dean," he finally said slowly. Dean bore holes into the angel with his stare, his eyebrows raised higher than he thought was possible.

"You what?!" Dean snapped. "You have all this fucking magic power at your disposal and can make anything come into existence, but I request a change of scenery and you just _can't_?!" The last word spat out like venom. Castiel slowly nodded his head and lifted up his right hand, showing Dean the rib cage tattoo.

Or at least, where it would have been.

"The mark is gone, Dean. I can only seem to use it once." Castiel stood up from his place on the couch and walked over to the window. He peered through it out into the salvaging yard. Everything looked so familiarly dull, except for the crimson aura drifting lazily in the distance. It seemed that the Cupid's Lament had followed them here after altering this world.

Dean couldn't believe the words that the angel just threw at him. He couldn't change anything anymore? They were stuck like this? He turned to walk towards the bedroom. He just wanted to fucking sleep, and maybe when he woke up he would be back home with Sammy and Bobby and everything would be perfectly fine.

"Dean, you—" Dean heard Castiel try to call him, but he interrupted him harshly.

"Shut it, Cas. I don't care. I just want to sleep and hopefully I'll wake up and this will all just be some fucked up nightmare."

"Dean."

The hunter froze. Angel-of-the-Lord voice.

"I was trying to tell you, Dean, that the mark is on the back of your neck."

Dean whirled around and stared into blue eyes, incredulous. "Come again?"

"I was trying to tell you," Castiel repeated, taking steps towards the green-eyed man, "that the mark is on the back of your neck."

Dean's jaw dropped for a second before turning around and bolting to the bathroom. He looked for the old hand mirror that Bobby kept in his cupboard (a memento to his late wife). Upon finding it, he held it up behind him and angled it so that he could see it in the large mirror on the wall above the sink.

And there it was. A midnight black spinal column with violet protruding ribs, located directly under his hairline. He smiled instantly. Oh, he was ecstatic. He was finally able to change this freaking place and not have to deal with it anymore. He could get out of the house and not have to worry about hitting some magic wall on the way out (Dean had tried multiple times to leave the area, but once he got to a certain point, he was teleported back to the other end, just like in the field they began at). He re-entered the living room where Castiel was patiently standing, waiting for what Dean was going to say.

"Fuck this joint," Dean said, a smile grazing his face. He waved his hand, mimicking the time when Castiel changed the world, using a slow and graceful motion. He felt like a ballerina while doing it, and he scowled silently at himself. Great, now in order to make everything how he wanted it, he had to be a little girl to do so. But, he also went and cuddled Cas. He couldn't really complain.

Then again, he wasn't sure why he went to snuggle with the angel in the first place.

Around them, the walls of the house fell into a dematerialized state, each splinter of each piece of furniture giving way to the new, fresh environment. Dean sniffed the air and sighed happily, Ah, the smell of booze. He had been wanting to lose himself in a bar since they arrived in this damn universe, and now, he can finally have his wish. He turned to Castiel with a huge smile beaming along his lips, but that smile instantly faded away when he saw the discomfort in the angel's bright blue eyes.

"Hey, Cas, you okay?"

"Dean…" Castiel's voice was barely above a whisper, low and gruff. Dean almost liked it.

"What?"

"I don't like this world."

Dean laughed sarcastically. "Well why not? We have whatever we want here."

"No, Dean," Castiel commented, "YOU have everything here. And a little visitor at that." The angel pointed his finger somewhere behind Dean. The hunter followed it and noticed something sitting on a table across the bar.

"Sonofabitch," Dean said out loud.

That fucking flower was sitting there, in a little flower pot. Dean wanted to smash it into the wall and rip that goddamn plant to shreds, but he knew that it would just come back with another one next to it… probably in his drink. He had no idea where those things were capable of growing, and he didn't want to find out. All he knew is that whenever that thing spat out its little blood pollen, it surfaced feelings inside of Dean that he really didn't want to worry about at the moment. He had his own problems right now that he needed to deal with, and this was not one of them. He dismissed it for now, though. He wanted to get hammered.

"Whatever, dude, I'm getting plastered," Dean called over his shoulder as he went to sit at the bar. "You coming dude?"

Castiel stood perfectly still. He didn't want to drink. To be honest with himself, he was afraid to drink. He was human now, and he knew enough from talking to Dean that people who don't drink normally got drunk faster. Nonetheless, this was Dean, and as much as Castiel wanted to refuse, he felt obligated to have a few drinks with the hunter. He slowly made his way over to the bar and sat on the stool next to Dean, refusing to look at him.

Dean stared at Castiel, wondering why he was acting so weird. It's not the first time Cas had gotten drunk, if he remembered. The dude slammed an entire liquor store before; this shouldn't be a problem. Then he remembered that Cas was human now, and he didn't have the tolerance like he had when his angel mojo still existed. He tapped his hand on the bar counter, signaling for the bartender to serve them.

However, no one came. Dean slammed his hand again. Still, no one came. He was about to do it again when Castiel grabbed his wrist to stop him. Dean looked up at the angel and saw a look in his eyes that screamed "You are an idiot".

"Dean," Castiel began, seemingly annoyed, "do you remember what Valois said?"

Dean furrowed his brow to rack his brain of any memories. "Uh… no."

"No matter how hard we try, we cannot bring other people into our world. We will have to serve ourselves."

Dean lightly palmed himself in the forehead. Of course, he forgot one of the only two rules that were actually stated in the beginning, not including the hidden rules such as "You two will take turns changing shit around", "The sky will always be purple", and "That fucking flower will be everywhere". How he didn't notice it before they sat down though was a miracle. The entire bar was empty; there were no customers either, besides Dean and Castiel. The hunter sighed in embarrassment and went behind the bar. He looked around before finding two shot glasses, a few bottles of whiskey, and some beers, setting them in front of where Castiel sat, one by one. He went back around and took a seat at the bar, opening the whiskey and pouring two shots, sliding one to the angel.

"Here's to an eternity of just us," Dean said as they raised their glasses and downed them. It burned a little going down, but Dean enjoyed it. Oh, how he had missed this feeling. It had been seemingly forever ago since his last drink. Who knows, maybe it _was_ forever ago, and he just couldn't tell anymore. He had slept a total of five times since this world became their new home, so he assumed he'd been gone for five days…

* * *

"You're telling me that this Skulletra thing just took Dean and Cas into another world, killed herself to save you, and now they're trapped?"

Sam nodded his head somberly. He hated disappointing Bobby like this. What was even worse is that he didn't know what to do when the orb shattered; he just took the Impala and _left_. He had sped down the road with Peoria in the rearview mirror, tears in his eyes. Sam knew that if he didn't find out a way to bring them both back, then they would be trapped there forever, and he would never see his older brother or the angel again. So, he ran to the only place he could go to find out what he could do: Bobby's.

That was two weeks ago.

"You goddamn idjit," Bobby scolded. "You left them boys behind in Wonderland for them to fend for themselves against whatever the hell might be there and you expect things to be fine?!"

"They won't be fine, Bobby, I know that!" Sam snapped. "And they're not fending shit off in there, it's just them! Valois _created_ an empty void somewhere in space just for them to exist in and I don't know how to get them out!"

Bobby leaned back in his wheelchair. Getting himself crippled had been the biggest pain in his ass since that wendigo twenty years ago had him in the hospital for a month. He looked up at the moose of a Winchester. Sam was clearly having a mental breakdown at all that was going on. He could see it in the tensed jaw and watering eyes the kid was sporting at the moment. Bobby knew he shouldn't have yelled at him like that, but he needed to get his point across. Being a crotchety old man didn't mean he didn't have feelings; he was just as upset as Sam was. He wanted Dean and Castiel back more than anything, but they had to sit through it for now and figure out a way to get them back to this world without tearing each other's throats out. He tried to come up with the best possible solutions, but couldn't find anything.

"I'm sorry for yelling, Sam," Bobby finally admitted after a while, "I'm just as upset about all this as you are. And to make things worse, I have no idea how to pull someone from another dimension. Never had the need to."

Sam ran his hand up his face and through his hair, trying to keep from sobbing uncontrollably. There had to be something he could do. What would Dean have done if the roles were switched? He probably would have found a way to get into that world and drag them out himself. But how would he do that? He couldn't use astral projection; that only worked on the earthly plane. There wasn't any spell in existence that could transport him there, especially since he had no idea where he would be going. What would be able to pass between the worlds?

Then it hit him.

"Bobby?"

The old man looked up, broken from his deep thought. "Yes, Sam?"

"I think I know what we can do."

* * *

The bar around Dean began to appear blurry. He wasn't sure how many drinks he had, but he knew it was a lot. The air around him buzzed with a positive energy as he and Castiel joked around with each other, turning on the music and dancing like idiots with no one to watch. The hunter almost enjoyed it this way. He could be stupid with his best friend and no one was around to stare at them awkwardly, like they were some nuisances that needed to be swat away like flies. For the first time in a while, he felt… good. Surprisingly good. After a few minutes of hot, sweaty dancing, they returned back to where they sat at the bar. The whiskey bottle had been gone a while ago and Dean had to go get a few more beers.

Castiel dizzily sat on his barstool. He couldn't even deny how hammered he was, even if he tried. He didn't even drink as much as Dean did. He watched as the hunter went back around behind the bar. Everything else faded from Castiel's vision as he admiringly raked Dean's body with his eyes. For some reason, Dean was just so… beautiful. His perfectly chiseled jaw line and stubble were accentuated by his deep, forest green eyes, his shirt clinging to his muscular frame like static. The way Dean's jeans were hugging his built legs tightly and showing a slight bulge in his crotch made something in Castiel's gut stir like crazy… he knew this feeling. It was like when he had woken up with that _thing _in his own pants that one day, and Dean showed him how to get rid of it. He wasn't sure what that feeling was, or what it was called, but it only seemed to happen when he thought of Dean. The air between them felt like electricity, and Castiel wanted to lean in closer and just… he couldn't think straight anymore because the alcohol _really _hit him. He struggled to keep his own balance on the chair, and smiled idiotically when Dean came back to where they sat with more beers.

"You're looking pretty slammed, dude," Dean commented. "I think you're done." Castiel just nodded his head, and Dean noticed for the first time tonight how the angel looked. His hair looked like he just woke up from having sex with a hurricane, and his stubble was showing through just a little more slightly than normal. It was strange seeing Cas in a white T-shirt rather than an accountant get-up, but Dean liked the change. It was well-fitting and showed off Cas' body nicely. And those eyes… damn, those eyes got to him. Seas of blue lightning swallowed Dean up every time he stared into those gleaming orbs that belonged to the angel. He wanted to get lost in them forever. A tense silence erupted between the two men in the lonely bar as they both admired each other, not even aware that the other was checking them out.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean finally split the silence in two.

"Yeeessss, Dean?" The way Castiel slurred his words with such drunken happiness almost made Dean piss his pants with laughter, but something serious had entered his mind.

"Are you, are you… uh…" Dean found himself lost in his words as he took another drink of his beer.

"I am very real, Dean," Castiel said, attempting to sound as sober as possible. His failed attempt made him laugh to himself, and Dean's ears rang joyously at the sound of it. He loved hearing Cas laugh or seeing him smile. It was so rare to see back in real life that Dean wanted to relish in every moment that it occurred while Cas was still in angel.

"That's not what I meant, Cas," Dean finally said. The light air around them seemed to get heavier as his tone developed a more serious sound to it. Dean wanted to get this across. "I think… Cas, I think I like you."

Castiel's heart jumped in his chest. He looked at the man in front of him. Had Dean just confessed that he liked Castiel? The words made the angel shudder in parts of his body that he didn't even know existed, and he could feel sweat pooling on the back of his neck. For some weird reason, he instantly started to feel strangely nervous. Dean continued in his speech.

"Ever since we got here, I've been thinking about it. I always thought that I liked girls and I would never, _ever_ want to be involved with a guy. But being here, I realized that I think I like you. That flower there—" he pointed to the Cupid's Lament in the flowerpot on the other end of the bar— "helped me realize that. Cas, I've always liked you. I was just too blind to see it. I was always thankful to you for saving us, for saving me… you pulled me out of Hell, man. No one else would have done that. I mean, I bet Sammy would have tried, but you were the only one who could." He reached in and cupped his hand on Castiel's cheek. The angel could feel himself sweating profusely. "Thank you."

Dean wanted Castiel more than anything, and not just for sex. He wanted to love him and take care of him, and actually take it slow instead of just going for a quick fuck like he used to. Cas didn't deserve to be a one night stand. He leaned in to kiss the angel, but never made it.

His vision blacked out as he saw the floor rushing towards him.

Castiel stood over the king sized bed, panting heavily, watching over the unconscious hunter. The room they were in was simplistic: the bed, covered with white sheets, was resting calmly in a solid oak wood frame in the middle of the room. There was no other furniture in the white-walled room, or even a door. For being last minute, Castiel was pleased with himself.

He had been waiting. Waiting for Dean to lean in and kiss him. Castiel's body had demanded it as he smelled the alcohol on Dean's breath, to feel the hunter's lips encase his own and fall into a romantic first kiss, to allow the feelings of pleasure to surge through him from the electricity of the embrace. But he had noticed Dean's stool beginning to tip over, and with the amount of alcohol the hunter had tonight, Castiel didn't expect him to make a recovery.

So he had reacted fast.

He had swung his arm as fast as he could, attempting to keep an elegant arc to it. Thankfully, he succeeded, because Dean had fallen onto the bed rather than the hardwood floor of the bar. Castiel mentally patted himself on the back for quick thinking, and the world started spinning around him. He threw up on the white floor and doubled over from the pain in his stomach. He was probably never going to drink again while he was human.

He slowly and dizzily climbed into the bed next to Dean, wrapping his arms around the man's body. Castiel heard the hunter's even breathing and smiled. Dean was okay. He didn't get hurt, and that's all the angel cared about; even if they didn't get to share a kiss. Castiel could feel his eyes fluttering shut, gently threatening sleep. He raised his own head up and pressed a chaste kiss against Dean's forehead.

"Dean…" Castiel whispered softly into Dean's ear, flinching when the other man stirred in his sleep slightly. "I like you too."

Castiel laid his head back down into the white pillow, letting him fall into a dream state filled with emerald eyes and electric lips.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Hey guys! I am SO sorry with the delay on this. I had ran into a bit of an issue with family and was also packed heavily with work, so I didn't have the energy to be able to write this at first. However, today was peaceful with everything, and I was finally able to finish it! To make up for it, I typed more than I normally do, just for you guys :) in case any of you saw the note that I originally had in lieu of this, I have deleted that to make room for this without interruptions. If you didn't see it, don't worry about it! It's all gone :) well, I hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

Dean's eyes fluttered open slowly, greeted by the blinding sight of the white walls surrounding him. His head pulsed with pain and he felt ready to vomit. When his vision finally returned to him, he groggily scanned the room for any indication as to what happened last night. The only things he saw that weren't white was the oak bed frame and the _fucking_ Cupid's Lament growing out of the wall. He remembered finishing what was left in the bottle of whiskey, but the rest was a blurry haze that he couldn't bring to life within his memory. It took a few moments before the hunter registered a warm presence to his left. He glanced over to see Castiel sleeping peacefully, his face graced with a calm expression, as if he'd dreamt of the essence of beauty itself. Cas was beautiful when he slept, Dean thought. Beautiful…

Fuck.

The events of last night rushed back into Dean's head, a dam of alcohol destroyed by a river of images and voices. What the fuck was he thinking? Dean had told Cas that he liked him. That he had some sort of attraction towards him. Hell, he'd almost kissed the other man. The hunter could no longer deny what was going on with his feelings, especially if that had happened. Dean tried to blame it on the alcohol, but he knew probably more than anyone that the truth comes out when you're that plastered. He couldn't believe that he'd done that, though. He didn't even know what the angel's feelings for him were. Hell, Cas probably thought he was a goddamn freak and never wanted to speak him again, only sleeping in that bed because there was no other place to sleep.

Speaking of bed… how did Dean get here? He remembered leaning in to kiss Cas. He remembered losing his balance, and suddenly he had started careening down to the floor. Now he sat here, awake and far from hurt, on a bed with a hangover instead of a floor with a hangover and a broken nose. He didn't have to think too hard, though, because as he looked down to the end of the bed where his feet stuck out from under the blankets, he noticed a small imprint of a black-violet rib cage etched into his ankle. He understood now why he had awoken in this blinding bedroom rather than the lonely bar.

Cas had saved him.

As he silently thanked the angel for his hasty reactions, Dean heard a small stirring noise emit from the other man. Dean relaxed his hand on his head and his elbow on the snow-colored pillow, a soft smile accessorizing his face as he watched Castiel sit himself up slightly and tiredly rub his sleepy blue eyes. When Castiel noticed the smile on Dean's face, however, the hunter immediately dropped it and turned red with embarrassment.

"Dean…" Castiel began.

"Don't worry about it, Cas," Dean interrupted, having instantly sensed the apology Castiel was about to give for switching things on such short notice. A wave of relief flashed through Castiel's eyes, and Dean was unable to keep a tiny grin from crawling past his defenses. For a moment, the two men stared into each other's eyes, a calmly swirling storm of jade clashing with a relaxed sea of blue lightning. Castiel studied the other man's features. To him, Dean was exceptionally aesthetically pleasing. The muscular frame, the chiseled jawline, and the faded yet numerous freckles all accentuated the hunter's glowing eyes, and Castiel couldn't help but get lost in it. He was broken from his reverie when the sound of Dean clearing his throat ripped through the air.

"So, uh, Cas…" Dean said, nerves evident in his voice, "did we… you know…"

"Did we what, Dean?" Castiel questioned while tilting his head in confusion.

"I'm not too familiar with what all happened last night after I fell from the stool…" Dean shyly ran his fingers through the hair on the back of his head. "Did we… um…"

Castiel sat up farther in his spot on the bed. His curiosity was at its peak. "I don't understand what you mean." He watched as Dean climbed out of bed and walk to the other end of the white room, dragging his hands down his face. Castiel could have sworn he saw a hint of redness in the hunter's cheeks.

"Did we have sex?" Dean finally blurted out, catching Castiel off guard and sending a shudder through the angel's bones. Dean wanted to know if they had partaken in carnal interactions together? To what Castiel remembered, they had done nothing of the sort the night before. No, he was sure they had done nothing. All Castiel did was kiss Dean on the forehead, that was all. The angel slightly blushed at the memory, which didn't go over well with Dean, whose heart plummeted into his stomach.

"Cas, answer me!" Dean hissed, his face quickly flushing red. He almost didn't mind if they did have sex the night before, but he wanted to remember it. He wanted the memory of Cas' moans to echo throughout his skull in his dreams, the sight of the angel's sweating body on his own, the feeling of pleasure that would surge throughout Dean's entire being as he entered the other man slowly. A threatening twitch jolted in the hunter's jeans.

Wait, if Dean was wearing jeans, then…

"No, Dean, we did not engage in sexual intercourse," Castiel explained, turning away from Dean. "Why would we have?"

Dean shook his head in response. Castiel lifted himself from the bed and strode over to the Cupid's Lament that was sprouting from the walls, stroking its petals gingerly. Dean released an inaudible sigh of relief. Thank God he didn't have to worry about missing out on anything. It was strange, though. Just last week, he would have been freaking out over the thoughts he'd been having about Cas, or any guy for that matter. Now, he accepted them as if he'd always been attracted to men. Maybe he had, and just never realized it until now.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?" The angel didn't turn his focus away from the flower.

"You wanna, uh, go anywhere specific?" Dean wrung his hands together nervously. Goddamn, he felt like a thirteen year-old asking his classmate on a date. He never got this nervous about asking someone out. "Like, anywhere you liked before or have never been to?"

Castiel turned around with an incredulous expression on his face, and Dean swallowed hard. What was Cas gonna say? Maybe he just wanted to stay here? Sure, Dean was cool with that… except there really was nothing to do in an empty room with a bed. Scratch that, there's plenty to do in an empty room with a bed. Dean's dick let out an angry twitch again as it began to harden slightly in his jeans. The moment he got a chance, he was going to find somewhere to whack it out later.

"I would like that, Dean, thank you," Castiel said, a smile slowly growing his face. "Though, to be honest, there are very few places on Earth that I've never been to."

"Humor me, Cas," Dean replied, nonchalantly sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Well…" Castiel began, "don't laugh—"

"Oh, this is gonna be good," Dean interrupted.

"—but I've never been to the edge of a vast ocean," Castiel finished, unfazed by Dean's interruption.

Dean stood there in confusion for a moment. "Edge of a vast oce— Cas, you've never been to a _beach_ before?!" he cut himself off halfway through, eyes widening in shock after realizing what the angel was talking about.

"I believe that is what humans call it, yes," Castiel replied. The monotone level stuck out in his voice so much that Dean almost found it cute.

"Alright, that settles it," Dean said, clapping his hands together before closing in the distance on Castiel until they were only a few feet apart. "We're going to the beach!" They stood there for a moment, a happy expression on the hunter's face, yet it faded away when he noticed the confused look across Castiel's features. "What?"

"Are you forgetting something?" Castiel commented. Dean furrowed his brow in thought before it clicked in his head.

"Oh, right, princess wave," Dean thought aloud, though he mentally kicked himself for it. His manhood was disappearing by the second. First he learned that he fantasized about Cas, a _man_, and then he has to flick his wrist like some royal queen just to take said _man_ somewhere he'd never been to. A bit of sparkles added to the maneuver and he could have given Edward Cullen a run for his diamond crown. Dean shuddered at the thought; he was silently thankful Valois didn't actually add sparkles to their scene-changing abilities. After a look from Castiel that screamed "hurry up", Dean flipped his hand through the air with feigned elegance, imagining exactly how the beach was on his last trip there.

The paper-white walls around them faded away as a torrent of violet, water-like shadows calmly crept up their surfaces in a way that was just short of eerie, as if purple oil was slowly infecting a blanket of fresh snow on the ground during winter. Dean could feel the floor under him fade away and become replaced by a rush of sand as he brought his memory to life. The devouring shadows faded away to reveal an empire of blue-green water peacefully surging at the shore, the sun sitting on the horizon like a king on his golden throne. The two men stood on a seemingly endless path of sand stretching along the edge of the water, a field of grass behind them, as a warm wind gently caressed their exposed skin. The sky remained its constant shade of violet that was natural to their world, though the artificial sun tore through and dispensed shades of magenta in its atmosphere. In the distance, the Cupid's Lament grew from the sands, its crimson aura spinning slightly around its petals.

Dean grinned widely to himself, pleased with his creation. It was just as he had remembered. He and Sam had a few days off of hunting after taking out three wendigos in Richmond, Virginia. They weren't too far from a little beach off of the main shores, so they had taken the Impala and driven over there to witness the stories of this beach that their parents had always told them. This little shore had been where John and Mary taken their honeymoon. Mary would tell Dean how beautiful it was while she lulled him to sleep after he had woken from a nightmare. She would tell him about the secrecy of the place, how no one had really known about it, so it had very few visitors. At dusk, the water would glow a luminescent green, and John and Mary would sit outside and just stare into the ocean, mesmerized by its beauty. Mary would tell Dean that it was one of the most romantic places John had ever taken her too (though later in life, Dean learned that they visited there nine months before he was born), and then sing him a lullaby to wish him to sleep.

Dean wasn't sure why he picked this specific beach of all the ones he had been to. He could have recreated Miami Beach, or that one in California where he hooked up with that one blonde that he couldn't remember the name of. But for some reason, he wanted to show Cas this beach. And as he saw the look of amazement on the angel's face, content and happiness washed over him, and he knew he made the right decision.

"Well?" Dean stated, walking over to Castiel, who was currently standing in the sand, gazing out into the sunset, his trench coat waving in the wind. "What do you think?"

"It's… beautiful," Castiel uttered, just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off of the majestic sight in front of him. He wondered to himself why he had never taken the time to see this for himself in the real world. Nothing, even in Heaven, matched this sight's beauty.

"Well are you gonna just stand there?" the hunter questioned, taking off his boots and socks. Castiel looked over in confusion. What was Dean doing?

"I don't understand," he admitted, tilting his head in confusion. Dean chuckled; he found Castiel's constant confusion about human things to be endearing.

"Take off your business shoes, Cas. The sand feels good on your feet," Dean suggested, standing up and exhaling deeply in bliss as the soles of his feet sunk into the sand. It felt warm; not too hot, not too cold. Just how he liked it. He noticed Castiel's hesitation as the angel stood there, unknowing of what to do. "What?"

"I… don't know how to take them off."

Dean raised his eyebrows, slightly shocked. So that's why Cas wasn't moving. "Let me help," he offered with a shake of his head, bending down and untying Castiel's shoes. His head was dangerously close to Castiel's crotch, and Dean could feel his stomach twist around in a swirling mixture of discomfort and arousal. He wanted to hurry up and get this over with, but he couldn't help but fantasize about slipping the angel's slacks off and leaning in a little closer, just to give his member a little taste…

"_No, Dean, knock it off,_" Dean thought to himself. He willed his already semi-hard cock to wane as he slipped Castiel's shoes and socks off. He stood up and met the angel's piercing gaze, a look of fascination hovering inside the angel's cerulean orbs. A smile crawled on Castiel's face as he felt the grainy and warm sensation under his feet.

"Is this what humans do?" Castiel asked, his curiosity peaked. He wanted to know more about what God's little apes did at the "beach".

"Well, they usually do more," Dean explained. "Play in the water, lie out in the sand and tan, build a sand castle." The hunter furrowed his eyebrow in confusion as a look of disbelief crossed Castiel's face.

"That's impossible, Dean," the angel criticized, "you can't build entire castles out of this substance. There is not enough here, and it is not stable enough."

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose. Was this guy being serious? "No, Cas, not like that. Sand castles are small, and built when the sand is wet." He paused for a moment before noticing the violet rib cage on Castiel's ankle when the wind blew the leg of his slacks up slightly. "Here, use that creation mojo to make a small bucket or something." Castiel nodded and waved his hand. A little red bucket materialized from violet matter on the sand, and Dean sat down next to it. He was going to pick it up before he realized something was missing.

"Wait…" he said, "we're not in the right clothes to be at the beach."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "I don't understand, what are we supposed to wear?"

"Guys at the beach normally wear shorts and no shirt." Dean noticed the angel's face turn slightly red. Was he embarrassed? Did he have some form of weird malformed body or something?

"Dean, I…" the angel said slowly, "I don't have any articles of clothing that resemble 'shorts'." He made finger quotes as he said the final word. In all honesty with himself, he didn't even know what those were. Meanwhile, Dean realized that he didn't have any himself.

"I have an idea," Dean said, standing up. He flourished his hand through the air and watched as the pants on both men were engulfed halfway by the violet shadow. Castiel jumped slightly, putting himself on guard, but relaxed when he looked down to see that it was gone. Though, he was a little shocked to see that half of his pants were gone at the bottom, and he could now see his legs from the knees down. He looked over at Dean and saw the same thing on him, and if his eyes lingered a little longer than they should have, then he wasn't going to say anything about it.

"_These_ are shorts, Cas," Dean stated, smiling. "Now come on, take off your coat and shirt." He slipped out of his own leather jacket and lifted his shirt over his head, throwing it on the sand. He looked over at Castiel, and blushed instantly when he noticed that the angel had frozen, his blue eyes raking the hunter's body entirely. He felt the gaze burn through his skin as it trailed from his chest to his pentagram tattoo, his nipples to his abs. Dean turned his face away from Castiel to hide the red in his cheeks.

"Cas?"

The angel broke from his hypnotic reverie. "Yes, Dean?"

"You're supposed to take off your own, too."

"Why, though?"

"You wanted the full human experience of a beach, right? This is what humans do. Now hurry up." The command came out a little rushed from Dean's mouth. He wasn't sure if he was being impatient with the angel, or if he was excited to see what Cas looked like underneath. Castiel hesitantly obeyed and took off his trench coat, setting it on the ground. He stopped to see if Dean was watching him, but the hunter had kept his head turned; Castiel wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or grateful. He took his tie from his neck and tossed it onto his coat, looking back at Dean. He stopped to shift his eyes back to the hunter after every article of clothing he removed to see if the other man had been watching, each time seeing that Dean had never glanced his way. Dean, on the other hand, was doing his best to keep from looking. He wanted to give Cas at least a bit of privacy, but he wanted to watch the angel innocently take off his clothes at the same time. When he finally looked over, it took everything in his power to keep his jaw from dropping at the sight of a shirtless Castiel, who stood there awkwardly.

Castiel, to Dean's surprise, was actually a little muscular. He had a swimmer's type of body; not bulky like Dean was, but not scrawny either. His arms were nicely toned, and his abs were slightly but sure defined. Dean wouldn't have pegged him as Hollister model-worthy, but Castiel was still beautiful to gaze upon. His face felt like it was on fire as he studied Castiel's body, taking note of every curve and indent. He wanted to saunter up to the angel and trace a finger along every muscle line he owned, but refrained himself from doing so. The hunter didn't even bother to try to will down the erection that was beginning to grow painfully against his jeans.

"Well," Dean finally said after a while, a hint of nervousness showing in his voice, "shall we begin?" Castiel nodded, and the two men sat down and began work on their sand castle.

* * *

"Damn, Cas, you got some artistic talent."

"I've been on Earth for thousands of years. I took the liberty of learning to sculpt."

Dean and Castiel stood next to each other, marveling at the finished sand castle they had spent what felt like hours building together. The central tower came up to the middle of Dean's chest, surrounded by five other towers connected by walls that Dean had designed to look like the points of a Devil's Trap. The central tower even looked eerie enough to resemble a demon caught in the Trap. Castiel had let the perfectionist side of him take over and carve little curves and windows into each of the towers as Dean had made the basic shape of it all, shaping up the walls and towers and waiting for the angel to put detail into it. Overall, it was an outstanding piece of work. Dean was proud of himself and Castiel. If only Sam were here to see it…

Dean squatted down next to the castle and stared at the demonic-looking central tower. He had forgotten how much he was missing Sam. He had no idea how much time had actually passed in the real world, since there was no way of telling time in their world. Dean closed his eyes and pictured he, Sammy, and Castiel all working on the sandcastle. Sammy probably would have added something to make it look better or worse, or maybe would have bitched about something in the design. They would have been laughing and bickering and just having a good time together. Though he didn't mind being alone in this world with Castiel, Dean wished that his brother had been there to enjoy that beach with them. Castiel's voice tore through Dean's reverie, causing him to snap his eyes open.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

Dean stood up and met gaze with Castiel again. He smiled, "Yeah, of course. Just… thinking how Sammy is doing."

"I'm sure he's fine, Dean," Castiel assured. "He may be worried significantly about you, but I am certain he is alive."

Dean looked out over the turquoise water. "I hope so…"

* * *

"Sam, it's been three weeks now," Bobby said, sitting in his recliner. "I don't want to be the one to say it, but are you sure—"

"Shut up, Bobby!" Sam interrupted. He was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop, frantically searching auction sales everywhere across the world. "I know they're alive, and I know this is going to work. We have almost everything we need for the ritual."

Bobby sighed and fixed his hat on his head. He stood up "Listen, boy, I know you're worried. But you can't keep exploding over little things. I'm sure this plan will work, but if you keep it up, you're gonna be the one to ruin it."

Sam lied back in his chair and rubbed his face with his hand. "I know, Bobby, I'm sorry. You think you can help me find the last thing we need for the ritual?"

Bobby smiled. "Sure, what are we looking for?"

"Fulgurite."

* * *

"What do you want to do now, Cas?" Dean asked, turning over on the sand to face the angel. They had been lying in the synthetic sun for a decent amount of time so that Castiel could see what "tanning" was like. Originally, the angel had thought it was too hot and made his skin uncomfortable, so he had used Valois' magic to correct it. Castiel turned to face the hunter.

"You said that humans walk in the water. I want to try that."

Dean stood up from where he was lying and offered his hand to Castiel. "Let's get going, then." Castiel smiled and allowed Dean to pull him up. They walked the short distance to the water and allowed the waves to graze at their feet. Dean laughed when he saw Castiel jump as the water hit him, the feeling being entirely foreign to him. After a bit, they walked farther into the water until they were knee deep.

"How do you like the ocean, Cas?" Dean asked.

"I enjoy it immensely, Dean." Dean grinned as he noticed a small smile ghosting across Castiel's lips. Then, an idea popped into Dean's head. He had the turn for the mojo, why not have some fun with it? He waved his hand, making the gesture subtle as possible so that Cas couldn't notice. Castiel flailed his arms frantically as he felt something brush up against his calf.

"Something touched me!" he shouted, instantly tensing up every muscle in his body, prepared to fight. He shot an incredulous look at Dean when he saw the hunter doubled over, laughing.

"Calm down, Cas, I just created a fish for a few seconds, that's all," Dean admitted after he finally slowed down his laughter. Castiel relaxed slightly and looked into the water where the phantom fish had been.

"Oh… I might have smote the creature, if I still had…" Castiel trailed off, his mood dropping into the ground. He had been enjoying his time with Dean so much that he had forgotten he was powerless here. He felt weak. Dean sensed the angel's distraught and placed his fingers on the blue-eyed man's chin, tilting it up slightly.

"Cas," Dean began, "it's okay. You don't have to be an angel right now. Here, in this world, there are no demons. No monsters. No Heaven. You have no responsibilities here that you gotta take care of, and that's okay. You're allowed to relax, it's okay." He flashed his Winchester charm smile to help ease Castiel's nerves; the change in the light of his electric eyes signaled that it worked. "There ain't nothing to worry about here, okay?" Castiel smiled and nodded graciously. For a few moments, they stared into each other's eyes. Dean found himself lost again in the angel's azure storm, which was immensely illuminated by the light of the sunset. He noticed the swirling of crimson from the flower in the background, but paid no attention to it. He didn't care. He wanted to stay like this forever…

Suddenly, Dean had arms wrapped around his neck, and Castiel's lips were pressed into his. A surge of electricity shot through his spine at the contact; he felt like the world around him had faded into nothing. It was just Castiel and himself. He closed his eyes reciprocated the kiss, moving his hands down and resting them on both sides of the angel's hips. The kiss was chaste, but far from being short. They stood there for a while, their lips pressed together, holding each other in a warm embrace. Dean felt his heart racing impeccably fast. This was it, the moment he had been wanting since their time at the bar. The moment of feeling Cas' softly chapped lips against his own, his scruff itching against Dean's chin. He had been wanting it all, and now, he was finally having it. When Castiel pulled away, he looked up into Dean's eyes, a feeling of bliss across his face. Within moments, however, his eyes flashed guilt, and Dean felt his heart pound harder. Did Castiel regret that?

"Dean, I-I," Castiel stuttered, turning away from Dean. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Cas, it's okay."

Castiel paused in disbelief, looking back into the hunter's emerald eyes. The sun gave them the appearance of looking like actual jewels in the irises of Dean's eyes. "Are you sure, Dean?"

"I'm sure, Cas. Now shut up and kiss me again," Dean commanded playfully, pulling Castiel in for another kiss. The waves crashed up against them as they stood there, sharing another electricity-filled moment between them, their lips moving completely out of synchronization with each other. Dean smiled into the kiss; Castiel was entirely inexperienced with this kind of stuff, and Dean couldn't help but love it. When they pulled apart, Castiel rested his head into Dean's shoulder, wrapping his arms around the larger man.

"Thank you, Dean."

Dean responded by kissing the angel's air. He looked into the distance at the Cupid's Lament. As much as that thing had driven him nuts… it helped him. It let him bring out his inner feelings. He smiled to himself as he watched the aura dance in the air. After a few moments, he noticed something strange going on with the flower. The aura had gotten bigger and spun around itself faster, engulfing the flower entirely.

When the aura disappeared, the Cupid's Lament went with it.

* * *

_**A/N: Yay! They finally kissed! :D And what could Sam possibly be planning? Reviews would be a blessing!**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: I am soooo sorry about the late updates lately! I have been so busy with work that it's insane. Anyways, I finally got this done. Enjoy!**_

* * *

Dean relaxed himself into an upright position on the sand, his arms behind him for support and his legs stretched out in front of him. He smiled to himself when Castiel attempted to mimic his stance to Dean's right, the angel furrowing his brow in confusion as he tried to find out how Dean was doing it. The hunter felt somewhat bad for now showing him how to step-by-step, but it was just so _cute_ to watch him try and do it himself. He laughed silently to himself; about a month ago, he wouldn't have dared to try anything with a guy, or even call him "cute". Now here he is, having kissed his angel best friend and finding everything that he does to be so endearing.

Though, one thing did plague Dean's happy train of thought. When they get back to the real world, _if_ they get back… what's gonna happen then? It's not like he's going to be able to just walk around holding hands with his angel boyfriend wherever they go. People would stare and silently judge from afar, and hunters would talk about it for God knows how long. Dean Winchester was known as one of the best freaking hunters out there; it would taint his reputation if word got out that he liked men (and women).

And Sam… how was Dean going to break it all to Sammy? He'd always been a womanizer in his little brother's eyes, always flirting with chicks and taking them home. How would Sammy feel if his older brother said he was dating a guy, let alone _Cas_? Dean didn't want Sam to think he was a freak, or an abomination, seeing that Sam used to be big into the Bible stuff and what not. And Bobby, hell, Bobby probably wouldn't even want to look at him. His worrying mood ceased when Castiel's rough voice sliced through his brooding state of mind.

"Dean? Are you okay?" he asked. Dean met a worried gaze of blue. He must have been showing his anxiety more than he had intended to for Cas to pick up on it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean smiled through his lie, closing in the distance between them for a soft, chaste kiss. "Don't worry about it."

"Dean," Castiel said, "I am able to perceive when your emotions are of great imbalance. I know something is wrong, but I will not press the matter further if it bothers you."

Dean wanted to retort with something about him being wrong, but the lie got caught in his throat and he felt his mouth go dry. Something _was_ wrong, but it wasn't something he could talk about with Cas right now. He just wanted to spend the time they have in this world together, alone. In response to Castiel's observation, the hunter could only give a subtle nod and pull his angel closer to him, wrapping his right arm around Castiel's waist. They sat in silence, watching the tide creep up the shore and retreat back into the ocean Dean had created. Dean wanted more than anything to stay just like this forever. He felt safe from harm, relaxed, _happy_. Nowhere in his memory did he remember ever feeling this content being with someone, not even Lisa. Yeah, he loved Lisa and everything, but _this,_ what he was feeling right now, was in a completely different league than that.

Dean started to reminisce about the way of living that he always called the "apple pie life", the thing he had with Lisa. He remembered how simple it was: every morning he would wake up and get dressed, prepare a breakfast for Lisa, Ben, and himself, and go out to work at the construction labor site. He would come home and greet his neighbors, check the mail, come inside, fix dinner, watch a movie with Ben. He remembered tucking the kid in for bed every night and kissing Lisa gingerly before falling asleep. And every day, he repeated the same thing. He had missed the hunting life, but when he got back into it, he just missed being a normal, everyday citizen as well. Dean imagined that it was Castiel in lieu of Lisa, and his stomach filled with butterflies at the very thought, because shit if that's not what he wanted more than anything right now then there was nothing that could make him happy.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat as he felt his heart nearly burst through his chest. "Do you, uh…" he stuttered, tensing under watchful blue eyes, "do you wanna, maybe…"

Castiel furrowed his brow at the larger man. "What is it, Dean?"

"I— hold on, Cas, just give me a minute, okay? I'm working on it," Dean snapped, though instantly regretting it when he saw a pained look on Castiel's face. He didn't know how he wanted to word this without sounding like a bumbling idiot, or like he was pushing things too far. He relaxed a bit when the tension faded and a smile barely ghosted the angel's lips.

"It's okay, Dean. I sense your struggle. Take your time," Castiel comforted. Dean took in a collective breath and gathered the words he wanted to use in coherent sentences, mentally scratching out each one that sounded too awkward. He felt a smile grace his lips when the ideal phrasing of the question finally came to light.

"I know it sounds like I'm rushing things, but do you wanna get a house together?" he finally blurted out. Castiel's head tilted slightly to the left, a pondering look on his face, and Dean felt his stomach twist from nerves and endearment. Cas' head tilt was adorable, he couldn't even deny that, but holy shit was this nerve-racking, sitting here and waiting for his answer.

"Can you clarify for me, Dean?" Castiel asked. He thought he saw disappointment in Dean's eyes for a quick moment, though he didn't understand why. What did Dean even mean by "getting a house"?

"I mean, live together," Dean explained, "like the white picket fence, apple pie kind of life."

"I don't understand what pie and fences have anything to do with this," Castiel commented. "If you wanted those, we could just summon them."

Dean could have hit the angel right now, if it had not been for the fact that Cas was being completely serious about this, and it was just fucking _cute_.

"Cas," Dean said, grabbing the other man by the shoulders and gazing into his widened electric eyes. "Do you. Want to. Move into. A house. With me?" He broke apart the sentence with succinct pauses to make sure the angel understood each individual phrase, adding a small flare to his voice at the end of the final part to accentuate the fact that it was a question. Castiel's expression was entirely unreadable, and Dean almost felt like lighting himself on fire from the agony of waiting. Finally, an excited look crossed the angel's face as he brought his lips into a full smile, his teeth gleaming in the sunset. Dean hadn't really _ever_ seen Cas smile like this, and his heart raced with unfathomable joy at the sight of it.

"Of course, Dean. I would love to," Castiel answered, his eyes gleaming like lightning-infused sapphires that Dean would have instantly put into a ring and worn on him forever.

Dean sighed in happiness and relief all at once as he pulled Castiel into a warm embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around him and feeling the warm, bare skin on his back. Suddenly, Dean pulled back, his frown evident with realization.

"I, uh…" he began, "…I wanted to build you a house, but… you know…"

Castiel placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and looked into his emerald torrential orbs. "I understand, Dean. You believe you do not have Valois' mark at the moment." He paused for a moment, reaching around to caress the back of Dean's neck. "However, I believe we both have it now."

Dean raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "I don't think so, dude. I was the last to use the mojo."

"Yes," Castiel confirmed the hunter's observation, "but you currently possess a new mark on the back of your neck, and I believe I do as well." He turned his back to Dean in order to confirm what he predicted, and Dean's jaw dropped in shock.

The violet and black rib cage tattoo that once marked who had control of the world-changing magic bestowed upon them had twisted into something completely new. It still kept its general color scheme; the center column still faded into branches of royal violet. However, the shape had been reconstructed. The spine reached up higher and the ribs flared out to the side rather than inward, almost like… roots. Dean noticed they were root-like, and his deep-seated suspicion was assured when his eyes scanned to the top of the spine, where an eloquent black portal laced with red spouted from the top, an eerie crimson aura surrounding it as if it wasn't just part of a two-dimensional design.

The rib cage had merged with the Cupid's Lament.

So _that's_ what happened when it disappeared, after they kissed. It split the sigil into half and broke it up among them, giving them both full reign of their universe.

_Their_ universe… Dean thought it felt so right to say to himself silently. This world used to just be the world they were trapped in. Then it became the world they existed in. Now, it felt different… this was no longer the world they both lived in. This was _their_ world, all to themselves, anything being possible. They were the gods of their own dimension. And goddamn it, it felt so right…!

"Alright," Dean said, kissing his new angel-boyfriend quickly on the lips, "let's get going."

* * *

The two men spent what must have seemed like forever creating their house and the existing world around them. They decided on a forest area, with just a half-mile walk to the beach that they had shared their first kiss at. The house itself was one floor, though entirely spacious on the inside; Dean wanted an entire mansion, but Castiel argued that it was too much space for the two of them, so they compromised for something in between. The siding was colored in a pure white, and they had a beautiful white-wood front porch, complete with a swinging bench that Dean suggested they should get. Castiel took Dean's earlier metaphor rather seriously and created a white picket fence around the yard. Originally there had been a tree that grew apple pies as a continuation of said metaphor, and though Dean thought it was fucking awesome, he assumed that food could still spoil in this world; he disintegrated the tree at Castiel's protest (of course, not without saving a few of the pies).

The inside, as both of their ideas, was huge. Not like Doctor Who's "bigger on the inside" TARDIS, but it could definitely look deceiving from the outside. The kitchen was modeled in a Romanesque manner at Castiel's absolute _order_, as the angel had insisted that he will be the one cooking, which Dean did not argue with whatsoever. Dean, in turn, created the living room with a 72 inch flat screen TV, a large black wrap-around couch, and a solid oak coffee table. With a flick of his wrist, he set the entire color scheme of the room to black, brown, and white, weaving intricate designs into the carpeting below his feet.

The main bathroom, Dean hesitantly agreed to, was decorated with pictures of bees. Everywhere. Dean chuckled at the memory of the conversation they had with it.

"_Dean, I want the bathroom to have bees as the decor."_

"_Cas, are you insane? No way I'm going to be showering naked with those creepy fucking _things_ staring at me. I don't deal with_ _bugs anymore, especially ones that have damn stingers."_

"_Bees are beautiful creatures, Dean. Do not judge them on their self-defense methods."_

"…_Alright, fine, you win this time, babe."_

"_I'm not a baby, Dean. I'm an angel of the Lord."_

Well, at least no one else was gonna be around to see it.

The bedroom (they decided on having just one) was the most delicately designed, co-created by both men. It was like they had worked together as one person as they manifested furniture and colors left and right, silently agreeing with what the other had selected. Dean had conjured a king-sized Tempur-Pedic bed composed of solid oak—he learned he had a thing for it—with a dark brown luster to its frame, the white mattress coated with a generously massive black silk comforter and complete with two snow-white Tempur-Pedic pillows. Shit, what was the point of a bed if it wasn't comfortable?

Scratch that. There were _many_ things that they could do with the bed.

Castiel had adorned the walls and shelves with ancient Chinese paintings and sculptures, trying his best to keep the same song and dance as the color scheme Dean had going. In the end, the overly-large circular bedroom was molded together into a Chinese paradise, the colors of black, red, brown, and white flowing along the decor and coupled by a stone-tile floor with grooves in it, holy water rushing through and forming together into a Devil's Trap (it seemed that Dean was still anxious about the impossible chance of demons being in this world—needless to say, it made a beautiful aesthetic decoration).

The master bathroom, though, Dean _refused_ to be decorated with bees. So it just had simple decor to match the bedroom.

Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel, pressing his chest into the angel's arm. "It's beautiful, Cas," he whispered, bringing his lips to a chaste kiss on Castiel's cheek. Castiel smiled and reciprocated the loving action with his own kiss to Dean's lips.

"We should head inside, Dean," Castiel suggested, "it has been a while since we've eaten."

Almost as if it heard its cue to enter the stage, Dean's stomach emitted a low growl. Damn, he just noticed that it had been since Bobby's house since he'd eaten anything. Guess time flies when you're spending most of the time thinking about your new angel boyfriend and how you could make him happy in every way imaginable. Dean's face contorted into a pleased grin. He had never given much thought to ever trying to make someone else happy, besides family. His only real relationships were with Cassie and Lisa, and even then it felt like he was living a lie with them compared to this. He had gotten so used to quick, drunken fucks in a motel or at the house of some chick he didn't even quite know the name of that he forgot what it was like to—

Dean's own thoughts clammed up tight, as if it was a word lodged in his throat that he just couldn't say. No, he couldn't even think it. He didn't know if he was ready for it yet. Of course, the hunter knew exactly what he was meaning to think, but fuck, he didn't even want to bring that word to mind yet. In time, maybe, but not right now.

"Y'know what, Cas, that sounds like a damn good idea," he finally answered, grabbing Castiel's hand and leading him inside.

* * *

"When did you learn to cook?" Dean's voice rang blissfully from where he sat at the kitchen table in Castiel's ears like church bells to a Catholic priest.

Castiel stirred the pot of fettuccine on the stove, quickly eyeing the timer to see how much longer the chicken was meant to be in the oven. "This vessel—Jimmy," he explained, "was an excellent cook. When I took over, I inherited some of his memories and talents as well." He stopped stirring to check the status of the noodles and turned to face Dean. It was proving rather… difficult not to get lost in the forest within the hunter's luminescent orbs. "It seems that I have the ability to cook, play the piano, and—" he instantly froze up midsentence and felt the back of his neck flare up in an embarrassing heat.

Castiel felt Dean's incredulous gaze bore into him from. "And?" the hunter urged.

"I… I, uh…" the angel stuttered. Dean's face must have been gleaming with amusement. Never before had he heard Castiel get this flustered about something. Ever. It must have been truly embarrassing if even _Cas_ had trouble getting it out.

"Well?" Dean pressed forward. He wanted to know what this was.

"It… seems that Jimmy was experienced with what reminds me of a leather stick."

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion. Leather stick? What was the guy talking about? "You wanna elaborate on that for me?" he questioned.

The angel's face flushed into a shade of red Dean didn't even think was possible. "It was used in rather… incrimination positions," he finally muttered, quickly turning his back to Dean to check back on the pasta. Dean noticed that Castiel's body seemed rather tense; maybe he needed a massage or someth—

Realization struck Dean like a baseball bat to a ball.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Cas, are you talking about a riding crop?!" Dean blurted out. The way Castiel _visibly_ shuddered was enough to send mental images through the hunter's brain, his blood already halfway finished with creating something rigid in his jeans. The angel just nodded shyly and Dean's eyebrows shot up.

"Jimmy was a fucking dominatrix in bed?!"

Castiel never turned around. "…Yes."

The gravelly tone in Castiel's voice fired straight south.

"Son of a _bitch_," Dean muttered under his breath, quiet enough to avoid detection. His cock was rubbing painfully against the crotch of his jeans now. Dean Winchester was no stranger to those kinds of kinks; he had enough drunken experiences to know what the a whip of the crop felt like, and fuck if he hadn't _liked_ it. But now, coming from Castiel, it seemed so… new. So uncharacteristic. So fucking _hot._

His body moved before his mind did, and he got up from his chair, sneaking up behind the angel bent over the stove. He brushed his lips against Castiel's neck before biting gently under the ear. Castiel gasped at the contact, dropping the stirrer.

"Dean, I—ah, Dean!" Castiel tried to explain that he had dinner to make, but was interrupted by his own moans as Dean's teeth grazed into him seductively.

"Don't worry about it, Cas," Dean mumbled, sliding his hand down Castiel's chest, past his abdomen, and finally cupping Castiel's growing bulge. He smirked at the hiss the angel let out. "If it burns, we can throw some mojo on it."

Castiel nodded, though Dean could tell it was reluctantly. He grabbed Castiel and pulled him over, shoving him back into the counter and spending no time closing the distance between their lips. Dean glided his tongue along the seam of their lips, a silent beg for Castiel to open up, until the angel finally conceded and permitted entry. Dean slid his leg in the space between Castiel's as he mapped out Castiel's mouth with his tongue with a fervor he hadn't implemented in a long time. God, he hadn't felt this fucking horny since he was a teenager, and fuck if the throbbing sensation in his pants wasn't testament to that.

Dean pulled himself in closer and grinded his crotch onto Castiel's, reveling in the sweet, _sweet_ friction of his jeans against Castiel's slacks. It was strange yet heartwarming how perfectly the hunter and angel's bodies fit together. The aching in Dean's pants was getting to be too much, he _needed_ release, and he was hurriedly fumbling with his zipper when Castiel silently moved his hand away to assist him. They undid each other's pants and broke the kiss only to slide them down, instantly resuming their heated make-out and grinding session in their boxers. Dean felt Castiel's erection press against his thigh, and holy shit if that didn't make him ready to explode…! He pulled away, already missing the warmth of Castiel's body. Castiel seemed upset at this action, and Dean nearly regretted it.

"Dean…" Castiel moaned. The hunter imagined the look on the angel's face, and it was then when he realized his eyes had been closed. He didn't want to open them yet. He wanted to picture it all first. His bright blue eyes would be shrouded with lustful, dilated pupils, sweat dripping down his face… the pulse thumped within his cock and fuck…!

"Cas," Dean muttered in a husky voice, "I wanna make you feel good." He blindly reached down and slid Castiel's boxers off in synchronization with his own, hissing as his erection was freed into the cool air. "Make you feel so good…" He wrapped his hand around both of their cocks, and his own sensitivity surprised him as he let out a sharp moan. He began pumping his hand along the shafts, swiping his thumb over both of their heads occasionally and spreading precum down their lengths. The little whimpers Cas made as he tried to control his pleasured moans almost sent Dean over the edge.

"Dean, I—oh, Dean, I'm about to…!" Castiel's voice sounded completely fucked out already. A drive a little closer to the edge.

"Just let go," Dean whispered breathlessly into Castiel's ear, his hand tunneling them at high speed.

"Dean… open your eyes."

Dean silently and mindlessly obeyed, and holy shit.

Castiel looked fucking _gone_. His electric eyes were entirely lust blown and he was panting heavily, his face twisted with pleasure as he held in his release. And that look, the sight of Castiel coming so undone under Dean's grip was that tiny little push. Dean nearly screamed his lungs out in a lusted moan as his release erupted between the both of them, covering their shirts—Dean just realized they still had them on—in warm, sticky fluid. Castiel followed suit seconds after, his moan reverberating throughout the entire house right alongside with Dean's body and soul as he came. They collapsed into each other against the counter, engaging breathless kisses as their shrinking erections rubbed against each other.

"Fuck, Cas…" Dean muttered as they broke apart. Castiel smiled, and Dean thought that he would never forget the way the angel looked right now. Most people look exhausted and sweaty after sex (or at least sexual actions), but Cas… Cas looked _beautiful_. His eyes were reflecting brightly and his hair had somehow gotten into an even more disheveled mess, and it looked absolutely perfect.

"We should probably get cleaned up, huh?" Castiel chuckled, and Dean laughed into their kiss. They wiped themselves and the counter off the best that they could and went into the bedroom to change.

Dinner did in fact get burned, but it was nothing a grace of the hand couldn't fix. And it was fucking delicious.

* * *

_**A/N: Yeah! First real smut! For those who wanted fluff... I tried to add a bit into this, but I also wanted to give a little treat for not updating as often as I/you would like ;) there will still be fluff in later chapters.**_

**_Also, I will be leaving on August 10th to go out of town for a week, so I will not be able to update whatsoever during that time. I will try to get another chapter in before I go, but I can't promise. I will be back on August 17th. Thank you to the followers, those who posted reviews in earlier chapters, and all readers! You guys are awesome!_**


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: Yay for fast updates! Whoo! So this chapter is going to be my apology for not being able to post anything for another week and a half (I'm so sorry!). I will be going out of town and I will not have my laptop with me. So, as a sort of "forgive me" present, I am giving you this. Hope you enjoy!**_

**_WARNING: This chapter implements themes of BDSM.  
_**

* * *

Dean awoke hazily to a bone-chilling cold sensation surging throughout his body.

He didn't even remember falling asleep. He had cast some mojo to fix their burnt dinner after his incident with Castiel the night before—his dick twitched happily in his pants at the thought of it— and changed into his boxers, heading to bed with the angel directly afterwards, curling up next to him and singing Hey Jude softly into his ear until Cas had fallen asleep. Dean wasn't sure exactly when he drifted off into his own world of dreams. The events of Dean's dream started coming back to him, signaling a pleased pang in more than one part of his body.

* * *

_Dean was handcuffed tightly to the bed, naked, all four limbs bound in steel. In front of him stood Castiel, clad in tight jet-black leather with zippers all over in ways that sent fires of arousal coursing through Dean's entire being. The angel approached him slowly, his hips swaying seductively as he aimed his black riding crop to the floor. He lifted the crop, his leather whip of control, up to Dean's chin, tilting his head up to face the blue-eyed dominatrix, who was standing firmly over the oak frame of the bed._

"_Someone's been a bad, bad boy, haven't they?" Castiel whispered tauntingly in a voice that Dean was pretty sure could bring him to orgasm alone. The hunter let out a strained gasp as he nodded at the angel's question. He wasn't sure what he had done that was bad, but holy fuck he didn't even care._

"_How should I punish you, then?" The riding crop slid down Dean's chest and across his nipples. Dean hissed at the sensation, because holy shit this was hot. This was so fucking hot. He glanced down at his already painfully hard cock, which bobbed lazily against his abdomen, begging for release. At that moment, a sharp pain shot through his thigh by his crotch, resulting in an equally sharp wince from Dean. It took him a few moments to realize that the riding crop in Castiel's hand had been the cause of that sting._

"_Did I tell you to look, Dean?" Castiel's voice had been a mixture between his normal low gravelly sound, that of a seductress to its carnal prey, and his Angel-of-the-Lord voice as he traced the riding crop back up to the hunter's chin, forcing him to meet with piercing blue once again._

_That's it. This was definitely happening in real life._

"_You may not speak unless I say you can. Not a single noise, am I clear?"_

_Dean nodded his compliance absent-mindedly._

"_Good." Castiel climbed onto the bed and straddled Dean, positioning directly above Dean's erection. God, he was such a fucking tease with this…!_

"_Close your eyes. Now." Castiel commanded, and Dean spent no hesitation in obeying. Suddenly, he felt the entire air shift around them. He wanted to know what was going on, it made him jumpy just thinking about what could be going on around him… His curiosity got the better of him and he opened his eyes, and son of a bitch, that bastard used Skulletra magic to keep him handcuffed to the bed and shift him laying face down…!_

_A hard crack of the riding crop to his lower back screwed his eyes shut again. He could feel Castiel's hot breath down his neck as the angel leaned downward to Dean's ear._

"_Did I tell you to open them?" he whispered huskily, and fuck if that didn't nearly make Dean spill his release right there. He shook his head and instantly felt more magic in the air as his legs were freed from their bindings, but his arms were still tethered, though they were now directly in front of him. Castiel got off from him and he began to miss the warmth of the angel's body on top of him, only to be whipped across the ass with the crop. An eerie chill flashed through his body and fuck…!_

"_I guess it's time for you to learn how to _obey_, isn't it?" Castiel hissed sharply, and the way he said "obey" made something click in his head._

That's_ what Cas had planned._

_He felt his hips rise into the air and Castiel's hands flanking both sides, and he knew exactly what was coming. He heard the sound of a cap being popped open, and a few zippers being undone. God, he wanted to open his eyes and turn around more than anything right now, just to see—son of a bitch! He hissed as he felt a slicked finger breach his entrance without as much as a warning. It stung for a second or two, but then it started feeling good, and Dean kinda liked it… until a second finger joined the first and the stretching pain was there again._

_Dean didn't remember _ever _having anything in this region of his body. There may have been one drunken, experimental time with a downright kinky chick, but none that he ever has a conscious memory of. It was a foreign feeling, so new and nerve-racking, yet so exhilarating… soon enough, that feeling subsided shortly after three fingers and was filled with emptiness as Castiel slid his fingers out of Dean. The hunter felt the blunt tip of his dick press threateningly against his hole without entering._

"_Now, tell me, Dean," Castiel commanded seductively, "are you ready for your punishment?" Dean didn't even realize that he had nodded his head, and the crop slammed right in between his shoulder blades._

"_I said _tell _me, not gesture it!" the dominatrix angel shouted._

"_Unnff fuucckk, yes!" Dean moaned out, keeping his eyes closed. He hadn't been this horny since freshman year of high school. He felt a gentle kiss placed right where the riding crop had struck moments ago._

"_Good boy…" Castiel muttered quietly._

_And then he slammed right into Dean._

_The hunter vision's nearly went white with ecstasy as he bit down on his lip to prevent the moans from escaping his mouth, because fucking mother of all things unholy, this was absolutely insane…! Pleasure surged throughout his entire body as he whimpered uncontrollably from the powerful thrusts. As if he was on auto-pilot, he arched his back downward, and that's when _it_ happened._

_As soon as he did that, he felt Castiel's cock hit something in side of him, and he let out a broken scream as stars danced across his vision and holy shit…!_

_The crop came across his upper back again. Dean was sure it was going to leave a mark._

"_I said no noises!" Castiel yelled, thrusting harder into him and Dean could feel the coppery taste of blood in his mouth as he sank his teeth into his bottom lip, doing his best to keep from screaming Castiel's name throughout the house as he hit that sweet little spot _every fucking time_. God, he knew this was a dream, there was no way Castiel could have been a virgin prior to something like _this_, and yet it all felt so vividly real…! Suddenly, Castiel slowed down and bent down over Dean, biting into his neck, his chest flush with the hunter's back._

"_Beg," Castiel commanded sternly, "beg me for more, Dean."_

_Dean let out a struggled moan. "Cas… please, I… ah, Cas, I need you to, ah, move…!" He could almost hear the wicked smile surface on Castiel's face as the angel pulled back up and began thrusting harder into Dean once more._

"_Say my name, Dean!" The riding crop came down on the hunter's thigh this time, and Dean was fighting the orgasm that threatened to take over as a warm feeling wrenched in his gut._

"_Cas… Cas, I'm gonna—!"_

_The crop cracked against his thigh again._

"_Not yet!" The powerful, gravelly voice reverberated throughout the room, mixing with Dean's broken moans. "Say my name louder!"_

"_Cas…!" Dean yelled, a little louder._

_Crack._

"_Louder!"_

"_Cas!"_

_Crack._

"_Louder, dammit!" The dominatrix was clearly close to orgasm, and oh…!_

"_CASTIEL!" The final word of the litany of the angel's name echoed throughout the room more as a fucked-out scream as he felt warm fluid spread throughout his insides, Castiel's moans pounding in Dean's head as he rode out the orgasm. Loud screams pulsed throughout Dean's mind, and he didn't realize they were his own until he felt his own release spill out onto the bed sheets without even being touched. Castiel collapsed on top of Dean and the two laid there, the air filled with the scent of sweat and semen._

_And then Dean woke up._

* * *

Dean broke from his reverie to find his cock maddeningly hard from just thinking about his dream. He wanted to reach down and take care of it himself, since Cas wasn't anywhere in the bedroom at the moment, but reality finally clocked in inside his head as the cold air forced him to take in his surroundings.

"Cas!" he yelled. The angel entered the room moments later.

"Yes, Dean?" Castiel responded.

"Why the _fuck_ is it snowing?!"

The room was covered in a steady blanket of white, coating each decoration gracefully. The water from inside the grooves of the Devil's Trap was the only thing, and even that was frozen in ice. Dean shivered violently in the cold; he _was_ nearly naked, after all, and all he had was the silk comforter to keep him warm. The only thing more frigid than the room was the stare he had fixed on Castiel, who stood there innocently. It was almost mocking, and Dean probably would have killed him if he didn't find it so fucking cute.

"I wanted to build you a snowman, Dean," Castiel admitted, and Dean felt his eyebrows shoot up in response. "Sam once told me that you two used to make them when you were little."

Dean made a noise that was somewhere in between an endearing chuckle and a condescending scowl. "Well, Cas, I'm very thankful for your thoughts, but you think it woulda been better if, you know, it was fucking _outside_ and not in the goddamn bedroom?!"

Castiel looked away in shame and Dean instantly regretted ever letting those words leave his mouth. "Hey, Cas, it's okay. Don't worry. Just… mojo it outside for me, okay?" Castiel nodded his compliance and graced his hand through the air, and Dean watched as the violet shadows took them over and restored the room to its original state. Outside the window, it became visibly brighter as a shroud of white covered the trees and yard.

"Thank you," Dean said, getting up and walking over to Castiel. He planted a kiss on the angel's pink lips and Castiel reciprocated fully. "Now, let me get dressed and have some coffee, I'll join you outside, okay?" he compromised when they broke apart.

"Okay," Castiel replied. He put on his trench coat and walked outside, leaving a half-naked and painfully smitten Dean behind in the bedroom.

"Friggin' angels," he said to himself, though his tone of voice was more loving than condescending.

* * *

Dean and Castiel both came in later that day, laughing and covered in snow, their noses red from the frigid air. Their snowman had been pretty damn impressive, and they did honest-to-God work with it (no magic involved)… well, it _was_ impressive, until Dean tripped over Castiel's foot on accident and toppled into it. They entered their home and walked into the kitchen, shedding their layers of coats and preparing hot chocolate to warm them up. Castiel was shaking heavily; he wasn't exactly used to the feeling of cold, what with being human for now. The angel took a sip of his cocoa and Dean smiled as he watched his blue eyes widen in joy and surprise.

"Dean… this is…" Castiel began.

"Delicious?" Dean chuckled, taking a slow sip of his own. Castiel nodded and drank his happily in silence. Dean was honestly surprised the guy didn't start mewing like a kitten with how happy he was. And he probably would have found it endearing. Seeing Cas this happy gave Dean the sense of joy and pride that he got when he saw Sammy after he was pulled out of Hell—after _Cas_ pulled him out of Hell. There was nothing he could think of to do to repay Cas for that.

After they finished their hot chocolates, they sat down and cuddled together on the couch in the living room and watched Star Wars. Dean was almost ashamed that Castiel had never seen any of them before, so they decided on a Star Wars marathon. After the third movie, though, Dean found he couldn't hold his attention any longer as his mind started tracing back to the dream he had earlier. The way Castiel's voice sounded and the surges of pleasure that shot through his body when the dominatrix angel hit that special spot… fuck, Dean wanted it for real, just as rough and dirty as he dreamed. He felt a blush creep up into his cheeks when Castiel jumped at the hard on growing against his thigh.

"Dean? Are you thinking about something?" Castiel asked, looking up into the green eyes of the hunter.

"Yeah," Dean said, leaning in to graze his teeth along Castiel's neck. "Just you and me, naked, having some fun in that bedroom over there…" His cock twitched with anticipation. God, he wanted Cas so bad…!

There was a moment of near-silence as they fell into fever of kisses, the silence only being broken by barely audible gasps. When they broke apart, Castiel spoke up.

"I would like that, Dean."

Dean's entire body shook with lust and anticipation. Oh, fuck yes.

"Then let's go, baby," Dean said, pulling Castiel off of the couch by his hands.

"I'm an angel, Dean, not a baby," Castiel retorted, but allowed Dean to take him into the bedroom. They closed the door behind them and their lips came crashing together, hands roaming all over one another's body. Somehow, though Dean would probably never figure out how, they made it to the bed with their clothes already strewn across the room and fell onto it as they grinded their bare hips together, their erect cocks generating heated friction between them. Castiel let out a quiet moan as Dean trailed his lips and tongue down his chest and abdomen.

"Dean…" he mumbled.

"Don't worry, Cas," Dean assured, "I'll take care of you." The words that Castiel meant to say came out in a loud moan instead as Dean wrapped his lips around Castiel's length and took him in his mouth.

"Dean, I—oh!" Castiel was unable to form entire sentences as this new pleasure pulsed through him. Dean was moving his lips up and down the angel's dick, deep-throating it occasionally. Dean silently loved being able to make his angel feel good in ways that no other person can, and he prided himself on it wholly.

"Dean, please, I'm gonna…!" Castiel stuttered, and Dean released his cock with a wet pop. He leaned up to lock the angel's lips with his own.

"Not yet…" Dean whispered into his ear. He wanted to act on the fantasy he had earlier, oh, he wanted to _so_ bad, but he reminded himself that Castiel was still a virgin, and he should be handled like one for the moment. Cas should be the one to determine where they go with this now.

As if on cue, Castiel opened his mouth to speak. "Dean… I want you…"

"Are you sure?" Dean asked, trailing his hands down the angel's body to grip his ass.

"Yes, Dean," Castiel confirmed, and that was all Dean needed. He lifted Castiel's legs up into position and waved his hand to create a small bottle of lube. He slicked up his fingers and began to press one inside Castiel's entrance, hesitating when he heard his angel boyfriend hiss sharply.

"You alright, Cas?" Dean asked, worried he had hurt him.

"I'm fine, Dean, now keep going," Castiel ordered impatiently.

"Cas, look, if you want me to stop at any time—"

"I said _move_."

Angel-of-the-Lord voice. Can't deny that.

Dean pushed his finger in slowly at first, and then slid it in to the hilt when he saw Castiel was fine. He added a second finger shortly after, flexing them in a scissoring motion inside of Castiel. The angel let out a pleasured moan and impatiently pressed his hips further on Dean's hand. The hunter took the request and removed his fingers, earning a gasp from his boyfriend due to the emptiness. Dean positioned himself above Castiel and stationed the head of his throbbing cock at the gate of Castiel's hole.

"You ready?" Dean asked as he leaned in over Castiel.

"Yes," Castiel answered. Dean pulled him into a fervent kiss as he slowly pushed himself inside, causing Castiel to moan into Dean's mouth until the hunter was buried entirely, his balls pressed against Castiel's ass.

"Move, Dean." The command was short, sharp, and downright _powerful_. Dean retreated slowly and pushed back in, thrusting in slow, sweet motions. Castiel moaned softly into the nape of Dean's neck with each thrust, until he arched into it and almost screamed with pleasure.

Dean felt himself hit that spot. The one that Cas had hit over and over again in his dream, and goddamn if the angel's reaction didn't send shivers along his spine—he didn't even know if it was going up or down anymore. Castiel's mouth had fallen into an "O" shape, promising to let out a series of broken moans, but only silence followed it.

"What the fuck was that?!" Castiel asked, his voice shaky. Dean had never heard Castiel swear before, but fuck it was hot.

"Oh, you mean this?" Dean said, grinning mischievously as he thrusted back into him harder, hitting that spot perfectly. This time, a loud moan escaped from the angel underneath him, and Dean gave him a prideful smirk. Castiel's left hand made it up to Dean's back and dug his nails into the bare skin while his right reached down to stroke his own begging dick. The hunter continued to fuck into Castiel, his cock brushing against that spot with skilled precision each time. He had enough experience with chicks in his life; he knew exactly how to please someone, even if it's with a guy this time around. Castiel tunneled himself rapidly, attempting to keep in time with Dean's thrusts.

"Fuck, Cas, you're so tight…" Dean breathed out. Castiel responded with a low growl that generated a swirling pool of heat in Dean's gut. Shit, he was so close already; he hadn't been near his orgasm in this short of a time since high school.

"Dean, I—oh, Dean, I'm…!" Castiel stuttered into a strangled scream, interrupting himself with a high-pitched moan that Dean found almost inhuman as the angel came between them, coating his chest and stomach with warm, sticky fluid. When Castiel opened his electric blue eyes, Dean looked into them, and the lust-blown dilated pupils and gleaming cerulean was enough to send Dean over the edge. He leaned down and growled into Castiel's neck as he spilled his release inside of the angel, shuddering with adrenaline and excitement.

"Cas… oh, Castiel…" The angel's name became a mindless chant rolling off of Dean's tongue breathlessly as he lied on top of said angel. Nothing else existed in the world in that moment; it was all just Castiel, Castiel, Castiel.

"Dean…" Castiel whispered, and the hunter opened his eyes—he was unaware he had even closed them—and gazed upon the angel's face. Castiel was a mess, a very very _hot_ mess. His hair was sticking out in almost every direction possible and sweat lined his entire face. But his eyes, fuck, his eyes were beautifully woven together with lust and pleasure and adoration. If Dean hadn't been so exhausted, he would have went for round two right there. He pulled out of the angel and smirked when he heard a small hiss in response. They lied on their sides facing each other, Dean carding his fingers gently through Castiel's hair.

"So, Cas," Dean chuckled, "what's it feel like not being a virgin?"

"Painful," was the terse response Castiel gave without any form of hesitation. Dean laughed and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him as Castiel traced his fingers along Dean's chest

"Wanna do it again sometime?" Dean suggested. Castiel looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and smiled crookedly.

"Of course," the angel yawned, "but I believe I am much too exhausted at the moment." Dean felt his own physical and sleepy fatigue creep up on him, and he found his own eyes fluttering shut, daring to drift him off into a dream state.

"Can't say I disagree there," Dean said quietly. He could have sworn Castiel said something to him in response, but he was already asleep by the time it registered in his head what it could have possibly been.

* * *

_**A/N: Special thank you to Chrisinele-hime for her continued support and reviews. You're awesome!**_

_**So Cas finally got some of that Dean ;) I wonder what kind of things they'll be doing later? And I haven't forgotten about Sam and Bobby; their POV will be coming up soon.**_

_**I have also begun posting updates about the story on Tumblr. My URL is castiel-your-dean-is-showing in the event that you would like to follow me. I mostly post SPN, so it's okay. :)**_

_**See you guys after the 17th!**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: I'm back from hiatus guys! Annndddd I feel horrible. I am so sorry for having to neglect you for twelve days. Twelve! This is unacceptable. But like as soon as I got back to my lovely computer, I ended up getting sick and couldn't keep much of a focus, let alone keep awake. So I am so sorry for this horrifically late update. I am still kinda sick and I couldn't put a lot of thought into this no matter how hard I tried, so it ended up being a lot shorter than the last three chapters. Still, I hope you enjoy!**_

_**I had originally planned for this to be two chapters, in case you guys saw my update on Tumblr, but I ended up fusing it into one.**_

* * *

Sam leaned over Bobby's desk, hovering above a bowl filled with exotic herbs and ingredients. A chunk of fulgurite was lying next to a mortar and pestle that Sam had planned to use to crush the crystal up. This was it. The last resort. He had tried contacting every Crossroads Demon he could to see if they could get to the world that his brother and Castiel was trapped in, and none of them, not even Crowley, was potent enough to travel there. If this didn't work… hell, he didn't want to think about it. This _had_ to work. He had taken a plane to fucking _Spain_ to get the fulgurite, seeing as that was the closest known existence of it, and even then he had to break into the auction house to steal it, since there was absolutely no way he was paying a hundred thousand euros for it.

As he started to grind the crystal into the mortar, Sam heard the front door swing open. His hunter instincts told him to pull out his gun and investigate; it could be any form of demon walking through, but he visibly relaxed himself as he saw it was just Bobby.

"Ya done freakin' out now, boy?" Bobby asked, a near reprimanding tone in his voice.

"Sorry," Sam apologized, "force of habit. Did you get it?"

The old hunter rolled his eyes and held up a brown plastic bag dripping with grease. "Yes, I got it, ya idjit. What'd ya think this was, a new dog?" He placed the bag on the end table next to the red recliner and ambled over to the desk where Sam had returned to his grinding. "You sure this will work?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, "but it better." He dumped the crystal ash into the larger bowl of ingredients. "They've been gone for two months now… way too long to keep them waiting." He reached into his pocket and brought out his box of matches, reciting a Latin incantation that he had spent the past two weeks memorizing. Upon the last syllable, he lit a match and let it fall from his hands into the bowl, causing a small eruption of sparks and flame. When the fire died down, the two hunters noticed a dark figure standing on the other side of the room, staring directly at Sam with deadly conviction.

"Sam Winchester," the mysterious figure called out from the darkened area, though his eyes burned through it brightly, directly into Sam's soul. His voice rang with annoyance. "When I felt myself being summoned and _bound_, I almost thought it would be the other one who did it. You've surprised me, Sam."

"Forgive me," Sam pleaded calmly, "I didn't mean to actually bind you. I just… wanted a favor."

"A favor, _please,_" the figure corrected, stepping forward out of the darkness to reveal a man dressed in a formal black business suit, complete with dark hair, patent black leather shoes, and a black cane. A silver ring adorned with a square, glowing white stone accessorized his left hand.

Sam swallowed a nervous lump in his throat and felt the back of his neck heat up. "…Please…" he said weakly. He wanted to make the best impression that he could. If he fucked this up, then the man he had just summoned wouldn't help him. It would probably even kill him. And Bobby. And the whole town.

And then, _of fucking course_, Bobby opened his sassily senile mouth.

"And who the _hell_ do ya think _you_ are?" Bobby snapped, stepping forward. Sam almost put a bullet through his own brain after seeing the furious expression on the formal man's face. Might as well save him the trouble of doing it himself, right? But oh no, Bobby wasn't done. "I dunno what ya think you're doing, but this is _my_ house, _my_ property, and _my_ rules, and _I_ am the only one who demands that sort of respect here, ya got that?" The old hunter was barely two feet away from the man; Sam could nearly see the fury emitting around Bobby, but what scared him more was the visible shift in the air around the man he was yelling at.

"Sam," the man said in an eerily calm way that didn't fit the mood of the whole house at the moment; it sent shivers down Sam's spine. "Does this man understand who I am?"

"I-I don't believe so," Sam answered, his voice shaking like a chihuahua that was ready to shit itself. He turned his attention to the old hunter. "Bobby… this is Death."

Almost instantly, Bobby's entire demeanor went from pissed the hell off to scared shitless. He looked over at Death, who stood there with an annoyed smirk on his face. "Death? As in, the Horseman Death?"

"That would be correct," Death answered. Had he actually been human, he would have laughed at Bobby's facial expression as it shifted from scared to terrified.

"I-I'm so sorry, Death," Bobby stammered nervously as he backed away from the horseman in respect. He almost bowed, but that would have been pushing things too far. Sam watched the interaction between the two, amused yet afraid to express it.

"Sorry Bobby, I should have told you before…" Sam apologized, receiving only a subtle nod in return. Apparently the old geezer was too terrified now to say anything.

"You should have," Death agreed, "I might have killed him. But, of course, you had to _bind_ me." He lifted up his wrists, and Sam noticed a slightly glimmering thread wrapping around them like handcuffs. There wasn't anything natural about that ethereal string, he knew that for sure. "So," Death continued, "I have to listen to your commands."

"If I unbind you, will you still help me out?" Sam offered.

"It must have taken you a lot of effort to summon me. Yes, I will help."

Sam nodded in response and recited more words in Latin, watching as the thread wrapped around Death's wrists shatter into nothing. He knew this was a stupid idea, and Dean probably would have screamed at him for just letting him go.

But Dean wasn't here. So Sam was going to do this his way.

Death smiled appreciatively, though the gesture clearly lacked emotion. He wandered to the recliner and sat down in it, digging through the greasy bag of junk food contently. He pulled out the bacon cheeseburger first.

"So, Sam," he said, unwrapping the foil from the burger and taking a bite. "What is it that you wanted me to assist you with?"

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets out of unconscious habit. "Well, long story short… Dean and Castiel are trapped in an isolated universe that no one can get in and out of, but—"

"But you thought I would be able to get there?" Death interrupted. Sam nodded his head shyly.

"Indeed, I can," Death said, placing a fry into his mouth. Sam watched the horseman's bony jaw move up and down as the young hunter rolled back and forth on his heels in anticipation.

"But," Death continued, "it will not be easy for me to accomplish. What you are asking me to do is travel into a world that is not even supposed to exist, and bring two humans back into it—and yes, I am aware that Castiel is an angel, but I would assume he is human in that world if he has not been able to make it back." He took another bite of his cheeseburger, disheartened that there was nothing to drink. "Pulling your soul from Lucifer's cage and putting it back together would be a simple field trip compared to this."

"I know, and I am still very grateful for your help with that," Sam replied, "but Dean and Castiel are trapped. They have absolutely no way of getting out, and I know Dean well enough to be certain that he's tried in every way that he can. Please…" Sam pleaded. He knew that begging to the oldest (or second oldest) entity on Earth was completely childish and disrespectful, but he didn't care at this point. "Please just bring them back."

Death finished the last of his junk food and looked into Sam's eyes, not saying a word, which drove Sam to madness. Finally, the horseman spoke, "Very well. I will do as you ask… on one condition."

"Anything," Sam deadpanned. He could feel Bobby's wary eyes on him, but he didn't care. He wanted his brother back. He _needed_ his brother back.

"Normally, I would have had you put on my ring for twenty-four hours and be me for a day," Death said, "but seeing as I have already made your brother do that, I will propose something different. When you die, I will be the one to personally take you away, and you will become one of my Reapers. Then you will be me for an eternity. Do we have a deal?"

Sam froze at the offer. Dean couldn't even last an entire day being Death. He had stopped when he was forced to take the life of a little girl and refused, which had upset the natural balance of things and caused more deaths than he had planned. If Dean couldn't last a day… how was Sam going to make it for an eternity?

But it didn't matter. None of it mattered. Dean _had_ to come back.

"I accept."

Bobby finally spoke for the first time since he had stepped out of line with the horseman, "Sam…"

"Bobby, this is the only way to bring Dean and Cas back," Sam told him. "I have to do this."

"I think we should touch up the deal a bit, just to see if you still accept," Death suggested, and Sam instantly stopped moving. He felt his heart leap into his throat and sweat was beginning to spread across his hairline. What did Death have planned?

"If in the event that you die before Dean," the horseman said, "_you_ must be the one to reap him."

Half of Sam wanted to scream no, that he wouldn't do that, that he _couldn't_. He knew how it worked. Though the wounds or sickness may be how someone dies, it's really the touch of a Reaper that kills the person. Sam essentially would be the one killing Dean, and he would have to be the one to live with that for an eternity.

But there was still the other half that knew better, the half that told him that he needed to bring his older brother back to the real world. Even if that meant being the one that kills him with his own touch in the end…

Sam stared deep into Death's dark, soulless eyes. He made his decision.

"Deal."

* * *

Dean closed his eyes as the relaxingly hot water from the shower poured down his bare chest. Damn, having sex with Cas was wonderful, but fuck if it didn't make him smell like a hooker who decided to go for a three mile jog to their next client's house. He lathered the soap across his body and shampooed his hair before reluctantly turning the water off and stepping out. He looked into the mirror and jumped when he saw a figure standing behind him.

"Dammit, Cas, you scared me…" Dean admitted as he turned around to face the angel.

"My apologies," Castiel replied.

In truth, Castiel standing there wasn't really what had scared Dean. For a moment, he had thought that the dark, disheveled hair and blue eyes that composed Cas were actually hazel eyes and a mop of brown hair situated on a tall, moose-like man called Sam Winchester. For a second, Dean thought his brother had found his way here and gotten trapped too. Or maybe, just for that moment, he thought he was back in the real world.

Dean didn't know if he was ready to go back there yet. He loved being able to have any material object he had ever wanted here. He had the house of his dreams, completely payment-free, along with things he's wanted over time. He even recreated the Impala, fixing her up with every little thing that made it special—hell, he even did the work himself instead of using the Skulletra magic. And best of all… he had Cas. Dean knew that if they ever went back to the real world, Cas would be called back to Heaven for that damn angel dispute they still had going on, and even if he did come down to visit, his angel form would keep him from being able to really get aroused… or worse, be able to even feel pleasure.

But he missed all the things that the real world had to offer. Cell phones, cable television, Internet… Dean couldn't really use communication technology in this realm. Well, he couldn't really use technology in general, but that was beside the point. Technology was always Sam's thing… which brought him to the real reason he wanted to go back. He missed Sammy and Bobby and being able to go to bars with actual people and just regular _interaction_ with people. Sure, he had Cas here, and as much as he loved talking to him (among other things), it still got kinda lonely. Hell, Sammy had to have been losing his mind right now. Who knows how long it has been since he got zapped into this world?

"Dean, are you okay?" Castiel's voice rang through Dean's train of thought, completely derailing it and bringing him back to present time.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean answered.

"You were staring at me, saying nothing for what seemed like thirty seconds."

Dean furrowed his brow at this. Had he really been staring?

"Sorry, I just like what I see," Dean responded, adding a wink. "_There you go, Dean, be suave about it._" His flirting seemed to have the desired effect, as Castiel had started blushing and turned away slightly. In an instant, however, the angel's entire demeanor flipped as he smiled darkly, his eyes shadowed with lust. Castiel lifted his hand and curled his finger, signaling for Dean to follow him into the living room.

Damn, that angel was smooth.

Dean followed Castiel to the couch, not even bothering to put his clothes on. He already knew what was coming. As soon as they had reached their destination, Castiel threw the hunter onto the cushioned sofa and climbed on top of him, kissing roughly into his neck. Dean whimpered softly as he felt a hand glide along his chest and nipple, and he reached up to tug at Castiel's shirt, a silent request to have it taken off and tossed somewhere else, which is exactly what happened moments later. Dean felt a hand reach down and snake around his already erect cock, stroking gently its length.

"Fuck," Dean hissed, feeling Castiel's thumb run over the head of his member. His hand made way to the angel's slacks and slid its zipper down gracelessly, inching his thumbs along the inner hem of the waist to pull the annoying thing down. Castiel seemed to read his mind yet again, and shucked his slacks and boxers, letting them carelessly fly to some other location in the living room. The angel leaned in to kiss Dean, their tongues dancing with one another as their hard-ons were pressed together harshly, grinding together with a rough friction that caused Dean to moan softly into the kiss.

"So you wanna skip straight to it, Cas, or do you want some more fun first?" Dean teased in a husky voice once the kiss was broken, running his hands down Castiel's back and groping his ass firmly.

"How about you stop talking and get on with it," Castiel suggested. The sheer lust and conviction in the angel's demand was enough to get Dean to obey unhesitantly as he summoned a bottle of lube in one of his hands. After enough practice with the hand-gracing motion, he was finally able to focus it enough without having to do it anymore (which finally meant no more princess shit). He slicked up his fingers and pushed one through Castiel's entrance, but pulled out shortly to his own surprise.

"Cas…" Dean said, shock in his voice, "you prepped yourself already?"

Electric blue met with Dean's own eyes. "Valois' magic can be used for more than just decorating, Dean," Castiel commented, kissing and sucking between Dean's jaw line and neck, earning a satisfied grunt from the hunter under him. "Now, are you going to continue?"

Dean nodded silently and applied some more lube to his hands, using it to generously coat his cock, which was standing attentively and aching for attention. He guided Castiel's hips to his crotch and gently pushed himself inside, listening to the angel's sweet, _sweet_ whines of pleasure. The hunter proceeded to rock his hips upward into Castiel, who rolled in time with the man under him, as the room filled with the scent of sweat, sex and Dean's shampoo, and the sounds of both men moaning and breathing heavily. Dean jerked Castiel off as the angel rode on his cock, and within minutes they both came simultaneously, the angel's pleasured scream echoing throughout the house. He collapsed on top of Dean as both men kissed each other with fervor, still riding out their orgasm-induced highs.

"I like this position," Castiel admitted when their lips finally parted.

"Yeah, I think I do too," Dean laughed. They lied on top of each other, kissing each other lazily. Dean felt at peace. It was just he and Cas, no other worries running through his head. He didn't have to think about how he would return or how much Sam was missing him. All he could muster up in his own thoughts was Cas, Cas, _Cas_. It all seemed so surreal, so much like a dream, so—

"Am I interrupting something?"

Dean and Castiel almost flew five feet in the air at the sound of a voice that didn't belong to either of them. No, it was impossible; no one else could possibly be in this realm.

But that voice. That voice was familiar beyond belief, and it spoke with so much power…

Dean turned to see who it was, and his stomach dropped six feet under… ironically.

Death.

* * *

_**A/N: Damn, Dean... having sex in front of one of the oldest living things on Earth? Awkward...**_

_**I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, again I am so sorry for the late update and the lack of previous length. I will try harder next time, I promise.**_

_**I have begun to update when I am writing another chapter and when I am posting it on my Tumblr. You may follow me if you want! URL: castiel-your-dean-is-showing**_

_**Thanks guys, I love all of you!**_


	15. Chapter 15

Dean sat awkwardly on the couch, fully clothed as Castiel took the time to prepare Death some form of unhealthy meal. It would have been rude to demonstrate godlike power to someone who had the ability to kill God himself. It had been weird enough for the horseman to catch them in their post-sex state; adding the strange glances had been worse, and Heaven forbid if they would have conjured something up in front of him. The green-eyed hunter kept his gaze firmly glued to the floor, feeling his soul almost boil under Death's dark stare.

"I'm… sorry you had to see that," Dean finally said after what seemed like ten minutes. Though he hated to be talking about it at the moment, this wasn't something he could let go unsaid after the freaking Angel of Death just caught him naked on top of an Angel of the Lord—also naked.

"Dean," Death replied, "I have been on this earth for ages, since the dawn of time. I have knowledge beyond anything you could ever imagine." The hunter finally dared to meet the horseman's look and tensed as he saw the unwavering tide swirling in his eyes; he showed no display of emotion, no subtle eye-shifting. Just a straight-forward gaze at Dean. If Death was pissed, or confused, or awkward, hell even _aroused_, he didn't show it whatsoever. "Yet," the horseman went on, "through times I have also had to adapt to modern behavior with each passing eon. I've learned to be able to notice homosexual behavior—oh stop your blushing, Dean—and I could tell from the moment I saw you."

Dean's eyebrows almost skyrocketed off of his face and through the roof as his face flushed even more of a deep red. He almost reached his hands up to hold the damn things down. "You… you could tell?" Death smirked—he fucking _smirked_—and tapped his cane against the brown recliner that he was relaxing in.

"Yes, Dean. Now, do you have any other questions?" Dean opened his lips to retort with his usual Winchester sarcasm, but he quickly realized who he was talking to and shut his mouth with a soft click. He still wanted to ask how and _why_ he was here, talking to him, but he wanted to wait until Castiel returned before they engaged with the topic. He wasn't about to begin this without Cas being able to throw in his own two-cents here and there.

"Well then," Death said, "we've wasted enough time. Come, let's go."

"Go where?" Dean asked, perplexed, but before Death could answer, Castiel entered the living room, a large meat-lovers pizza balancing delicately in his hands. He set the junk food down and Death looked upon it with wide, fascinated eyes.

"Nowhere, until this pizza is gone," Death muttered happily, grabbing a slice and taking a bite of it, almost moaning contently. "This pizza is a close tie with the one I had that one day in Chicago. I'm sure you remember that, Dean?"

Dean was beyond confused at the horseman's behavior, and could only nod his head at the man's reverie. Castiel had taken a seat next to Dean and began to study Death intently, his eyes wide with what seemed like both fascination and fear. Dean understood why; though Castiel wasn't an angel at the moment, his perception of the supernatural hadn't changed at all, and he must have been able to see Death's true form, just the same as he could demons. How exactly, Dean mused, did the horseman look like in his true Angel of Death outfit?

"Dean?" Castiel's voice wrangled the hunter out of his own thoughts.

"Sorry, just thinking," Dean answered quickly, though he had no reason to. "Alright Death, you know me very well, and I'm not gonna spare the bullshit. What the hell is going on?"

Death contently took another bite from his pizza and chewed on it elegantly, like a classy old man at a formal dinner party, before swallowing and looking at Dean intently. "Sam Winchester," was his only answer.

"Sam?" Dean heard his own voice crack at the sound of his little brother's name. Oh dear God no, what if something had happened to him? "What about him?" he continued.

"I sense your concern," Death said, "and I must inform you that your little brother is okay." Dean let out the breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding and felt his own body relax entirely.

"Okay, good… so what does this have to do with him?"

"I believe I know," Castiel commented. Dean turned to look at him and the angel was silent for a moment, clearly not understanding the cue to continue.

"Well?" Dean said, almost impatiently.

"Death is the only one able to travel in between worlds. If Sam had died, he would not have come to tell us; he would have just let us live our lives happily the way it is. Sam must have summoned him, bound him, and forced him to come here." He turned to look into Dean's emerald torrential eyes before continuing, "To bring us back."

"Well, I wouldn't say 'bound'," Death interjected before Dean could say anything. "He unbound me from the spell upon my arrival. I am here because I want to be."

"So what, you're just coming here and bringing us back out of the goodness of your heart?" Dean bit out. He knew he was getting out of line, but in all honesty… he didn't want to leave yet. Of course he wanted to go back, but there were so many more things he wanted to do in this world with Castiel; he wasn't ready to leave.

"Essentially," Death answered tersely, grabbing another slice of pizza. No more words were shared as Dean and Castiel watched the horseman greedily devour the entire pizza, leaving only a few drops of melted cheese left on the tray. When he was finished, Death stood up, straightening out his dress jacket and resting both of his hands on the head of his cane, his ring flashing in the light. Dean remembered that damn ring all too well; playing Death had not been fun.

"Are we ready to go?" Death questioned expectantly. Dean and Castiel shared grievous looks before glancing back at the horseman.

"Actually…" Dean began, "could we have a bit more time? This place has kinda grew on us a bit." He shuffled his feet where he had stood. "We want to stay a little longer." Death looked at Castiel, who nodded his agreement with the hunter. Dean wanted to have just a few more moments of alone time with Castiel and this world. It didn't matter what they did; he just wanted to be alone for a few more minutes with his angel.

"Very well," Death sighed, waving his hand to create on the coffee table an intricately designed hourglass, adorned with a white holder and black sand. "I will leave and this will begin. When it runs out, you two will be pulled back without hesitation. Understood?" Both men nodded vigorously, and Death disappeared as silently as he had come.

Dean turned to look into the electric blue storms of Castiel's eyes. Those eyes that he had grown to love while he was here, trapped in this tiny little world with the angel. No, scratch that. He was no longer trapped. He simply existed in it, and it made him happy. Here, they could be alone, and not have to worry about what other people thought. He was already contemplating on how he was going to break it to Sam and Bobby, or if he was even going to do it at all.

"Cas, I…" Dean began, but he didn't know what to say. What was he going to even ask him? 'Hey, Cas, I'm not comfortable about us being a thing around other people, mind not saying anything? Thanks.' No, it couldn't work like that. Castiel didn't understand homophobia; it would crush him.

"It's okay, Dean," Castiel assured. "I sense your struggle. You are afraid to tell of us to Sam and Bobby." Dean nodded his head sadly. "I can assure you, Dean, that your brother will love you regardless of how you are, and Bobby will do the same."

Dean felt a wetness build behind his eyes. No you son of a bitch, don't you _dare_ cry in front of Cas. "Thank you," Dean whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Castiel's soft lips. "What are we even going to do about us?"

"I am unsure," Castiel admitted, looking at the hourglass. It was already halfway empty. "As an angel I will not feel carnal pleasure, and I will have my duties in Heaven." Dean felt like he was going to puke. There was no way he would be able to keep a steady relationship with an Angel of the Lord. Sure, he could barely keep one now, but with Cas it would be different. Cas could appear to him when he was needed or wanted, no matter where he was. Normally, a girlfriend or wife wouldn't be able to do that. Cas could. But not if he had angel business to take care of. And the whole I-Can't-Feel-Sex thing? Dean struggled with that internally. The only thing worse than having sex and not being able to remember it, is having sex and not being able to _feel_ it. _That_ was something he had a problem with, and he felt that he couldn't have sex with Cas if the angel couldn't feel anything. Not that he wouldn't want to; it would just be so _unfair_ to the angel. Sex was fucking awesome, and Cas deserved a right to feel it just as much as Dean could.

Then Dean had an idea.

"Hold on, Cas," Dean told him, turning Castiel away from him, despite the angel's protests. He opened his hand and tried his best to picture what he wanted this to look like. He had to remember every single symbol he had ever learned of, and he had to find the _right_ one. When he finally got it, he looked down and smiled.

"Alright, Cas, turn around."

Castiel turned around and looked into Dean's hands, his jaw dropping slightly when he saw what rested in them.

It was a pendant. Not just any pendant, though; it was a chain made of Angel steel, like his angel blade. On it hung a single round stone of sapphire, the same rare color of his eyes, with multiple Enochian warding sigils carved into it.

"Dean…" Castiel whispered softly.

"It's for you," Dean said, holding out his hands. "When we get back home, if you ever want to be human again, just for a little bit… you can put this on and join us with whatever we're doing."

The smile that graced Castiel's had been enough to make Dean's entire being melt away.

"Thank you," Castiel said, pulling Dean in for a kiss. As their lips locked, they felt the world spin around them, slowly melting away into a sea of black.

The hourglass had run out.

It was time to go home.

* * *

When Dean opened his eyes—he wasn't aware they were closed—he looked up into the careful eyes of his younger brother.

"Sam…" he muttered groggily. His mind was still clouded up from the trip back.

"Dean… oh my God, Dean, you're okay," Sam whispered as he pulled his brother in close for a hug. Dean felt large, strong arms wrap around him and he reciprocated the gesture, finally taking the time to take in his surroundings. He was sitting on the floor in Bobby's study. A bowl filled with ingredients was sitting on the table, and Dean could smell the afterburn on it. Bobby and Castiel stood in the corner, watching the brotherly scene from afar. Dean stood up after his embrace with Sam and made way towards Bobby, pulling him into a hug of his own. A single, rebellious tear fell from Dean's face as he held the old man.

He had missed them.

"I missed you guys so fucking much," Dean said as he pulled away from Bobby. Sam smiled like no other and Bobby simply ran a fatherly-loving hand down Dean's arm.

"Thank Sam," Bobby commented, "he was the one who had the idea to summon Death in the first place."

"Thanks Sammy," Dean said. "But man, you really could have tried to find other ways. We weren't gone that long." Sam's brow furrowed in utter confusion as he stared at his older brother like he was insane.

"Dean…" Sam began cautiously, "how long did you think you were there?" Oh God, this had to be bad.

"Well, we didn't really have perception of time on our side, but it felt like a week or so." Sam and Bobby both shook their heads somberly.

"Dean, it's been three months," Sam finally deadpanned, and Dean's jaw dropped. But Sam wasn't done. "We had summoned Death last month. It had taken him that long to find you two. When you got back, you had been passed out for three days."

Dean looked at Castiel, who seemed to have already known this information. Of course he did; Castiel regained his angel powers the moment they returned home and must have healed instantly. And of course, being the human he was and the angel duties that Castiel had, Dean was left to heal on his own. "Damn…" was all Dean could think of to say. There were no other words that came to mind. Just… damn.

"Of course, I had done all the work," Death called from somewhere in the room, where Dean had finally pinpointed was at the front desk. Everyone else there must have been just as surprised to see him there.

"I thought you were done with your work?" Bobby questioned.

"I am," Death admitted, "but I came to see the happy family reunion. And to talk to Sam."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Just a few words of advice." Death disappeared from his seat and teleported to where Sam stood, leaning over to whisper in his ear. Dean couldn't hear what he was saying, regardless of how hard he tried to listen in. Castiel furrowed his brow—he must have heard it with his super angel-hearing. Dean made a note to ask him about it later. With that, Death was gone, like a wind passing through an empty house.

"So," Bobby said, breaking the silence, "whaddya say we celebrate this family reunion with a couple cold ones and a few days break from hunting?"

Dean's face lit up. "Oh hell yes," he said, in strangely complete synchronization with Sam. They both laughed and went to the living room as Bobby fetched a few beers. Dean looked at Castiel, who had been standing there awkwardly.

"Do you want to join us?" Dean offered.

"I do wish," Castiel answered, "but I have important things to do in Heaven. Raphael had been tearing the entire place apart looking for me. I will return when I can."

Dean lowered his head sadly, though the motion was subtle enough for Sam or Bobby not to notice. "Okay," he finally said. Castiel nodded, and with the sound of flapping wings in the air, he was gone.

Gone, for the first time in supposedly three months.

His best friend and new lover.

Gone.

But hey, he'll be back… right?

Dean turned back and sat on the couch with Sam and Bobby, cracking open his beer and kicking his up onto the coffee table as they asked him questions about the isolated world he had been staying in, and he answered, fueling their curiosity on the topic even more. They laughed about the snow in the house Dean and Castiel had created, and they were all having a good time.

He was glad to be home.

* * *

_**A/N: A bit of a shorter chapter, but yay, Dean's finally home! I'm planning on writing at least five more chapters before I wrap it all up. I will let you know when I plan to introduce the final chapter, I promise!**_

**_Coming up: Dean comes out(?), they meet someone again from the past, and some more fluff/smut for the boys!_**

**_If you would like to follow me on Tumblr, I have begun posting updates on the story. URL: castiel-your-dean-is-showing_**

**_Also, I have started watching Teen Wolf. I just finished Season Two, and I've read a good number of fics. I have come to learn that my favorite is actually NOT Sterek, but Stackson instead (Stiles x Jackson). I know they have absolutely no chemistry, but you can't deny that if they got along it would be the absolute hottest thing. Anyways, I was thinking about working on a Stackson fic after I finish this one. Thoughts? Comments?_**

**_Leave a review and I'll love you forever! Thanks!_**


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N: I am terribly sorry for the long periods of time between chapters (by long I mean like a week or something). I've started school back up and I've been running into some issues at home. Please forgive me.**_

**_And with that, let's go!_**

* * *

"Dude, what's been wrong with you?"

Dean looked up from the news article he had been reading about the local killings in Sandusky, Ohio. He and Sam were holed up in yet another shoddy hotel there, tracking down what seemed to be a vetala this time around. Dean took a sip of his coffee, pure black, scoffing as a bit slipped from his mouth and landed directly on the collar of his plaid shirt. Great, now he had to go get changed. He set the mug down on the coaster resting on the rickety wooden table, frowning at it when it gave an exasperated creak.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked his little brother, who was currently giving him a mix between his ever-popular bitch face and his even more ever-popular puppy dog eyes as the older brother stood from his chair and sauntered over to his duffle bag, slipping his shirt off to replace it with another.

"I _mean_," Sam whined, "you've either been wanting to hunt like crazy or you sit around moping for no apparent reason. It's like you're pissed off and depressed at the same time. So, what is it?" He leaned back in his chair and looked expectantly at Dean, clearly wanting answers from his older brother.

Sam could always tell when something was wrong with Dean, and the older Winchester would deny it out loud, but deep down, he knew it. After John sold his soul to save Dean, Sam could instantly see that something had been eating Dean from the inside out. Dean could yell at him and scream and lie through his teeth saying that he was fine, that Sammy didn't need to worry, but he knew that Sam could see the sadness inside of him. The hurt. Regret. _Anger_.

And this time was no different. Because something _was_ wrong, and there was no way in hell he was going to admit it.

Castiel hadn't come back down from Heaven since the day he left when they got back from the isolated world three weeks ago, where everything had been theirs. Dean could always feel the angel watching over him, but that didn't mean much of anything to him compared to the physical presence of Castiel himself. He wanted to see those bright, blue, electric eyes, shining with grace and serenity, a whirlpool of beauty in a sea of immaculate lightning. Dean never wanted to forget those eyes, and it scared him just how infatuated he found himself becoming. It was a thought that both terrified him and shot ecstasy throughout his entire being. He frequently found himself longing for a simple touch of the angel's pale skin, a kinesthetic wedlock between both of their lips, and it both angered and depressed him. He was pissed that Castiel didn't come back down to see him, to _be _with him, or hell just even check up on them, but also sad for the same reasons.

And some days, he didn't know which to feel. Fury, or melancholy?

But there was no way in Heaven or Hell he was going to tell that to Sam.

"Nothing's wrong," Dean lied, sliding into the best poker face that he could possibly muster. Sammy didn't need to know that he was upset that Castiel wasn't around much. Wait, scratch that; Sammy _couldn't_ know. What would Dean's little brother think of him? He'd think Dean was disgusting for sleeping with an angel, a _male_ angel. Sammy would look at his older brother and just think "dirty faggot" every time they met eye contact, and Dean didn't want that. He wouldn't be able to bear with it.

Sam folded his arms across his chest disapprovingly and scoffed slightly. "Dean…" he said, "I know something is wrong, I can pretty much see it on your face, now will you just tell—"

"Dammit, Sammy!" Dean snapped, cutting Sam off mid-sentence, who shut his mouth with an audible click, "I told you, _nothing_ is wrong. Now, will you get off my case about it?" Dean knew the tone in his voice was probably a little too harsh, considering his brother was just trying to help, but he didn't care. He didn't want Sam pressing the topic harder than he had been.

"You know, Dean, you're still the most stubborn person I have ever met," Sam complained, throwing his hands up in defeat and walking into the bathroom; probably to fix his mane, Dean presumed. When his moose of a brother returned, they silently left the hotel to interrogate the townspeople about the recent deaths that could be linked to the vetala.

* * *

"She didn't really put up much of a fight, did she?" Dean quipped.

"No, she didn't," Sam laughed.

Dean and Sam were in the Impala, driving back to the hotel they were staying at. The hunt didn't take them long whatsoever; after they had left in the morning, they asked a few questions around town, and were able to locate the monster and take her down before midnight. It was almost record time, compared to some of the other vetalas they've had to take care of before. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of Metallica playing loudly throughout the car, singing loud and off-key while Sam stared out the window and contently joined his brother in an ensemble occasionally.

"So are you feeling better yet?"

There it is. The question Dean had been expecting since they had gotten into the car. His mood had clearly improved from their altercation that morning, and he knew Sam was going to ask about it eventually. He didn't want it to drag the light-hearted mood down, though. He really hadn't felt so relaxed since he returned from the isolated world, and he wasn't sure why, either.

"Yeah, I guess so," Dean mused aloud, still tapping his fingers against the wheel.

"Still not telling me what it was that bothered you yet?" Sam asked, sitting up a little more in his seat, anticipating an answer for Dean's poor mood that morning. An answer that he was not going to get.

"Nope," Dean replied, and flashed his signature Dean Winchester smile towards his brother. He usually only showed such a gesture towards the women he wanted to have sex with, but he used it in many other cases as well, all of them involving him wanting to have some form of influence over someone else. It always worked, even on Sam, who just rolled his eyes playfully and sat back in his seat. "Anyways," Dean continued, "wanna hit up the bar, get a few drinks? I think we deserve a treat."

Sam smiled at his brother, and though it was unspoken, Dean didn't need to be told twice. He drove over to a local bar and walked in, smelling the familiar scent of booze, cigarette smoke, and cheap perfume. Oh, how much Dean _missed_ this, being able to have all of these little perks of being in a real-life bar again.

And suddenly, Dean missed his other bar. The one back in the isolated world.

Though no one else had been there, Dean was with Castiel the entire time, and that made him love it even more. They had drank to their hearts' content—for _free_ at that—and played music through the jukebox that no one else could complain about; they were even able to trash shit and rebuild it with the swipe of a hand. He remembered his _almost_ first kiss with Castiel, sitting at the bar and nursing a bottle of whatever it was he had been drinking (he couldn't remember) and leaning in for the kill, only to miss and begin falling headfirst to the ground.

He couldn't have any of that again. No free drinks, no undisputed tunes. No near first kisses, no magic Skulletra powers.

No Castiel.

Dean found himself longing again to hold the angel in his arms, and figured that hey, he was in a bar. Might as well drink himself away and say it was a celebration like he planned, right?

Dean and Sam walked to the bar counter and sat down on two stools, in between a couple flirting with each other and a large biker dude. Dean almost felt like he was in one of those movies where the scene was just setting itself up to be a bar fight. But that wasn't what he was looking for. He just wanted a drink and his angel. Preferably the latter, but only the first would be possible. He ordered a glass of bourbon while Sam just ordered a beer and a water.

After a few more glasses of whiskey for each little sorrow he could think of to wash away, Dean found a woman attaching herself to his arm. He wasn't exactly sure when she got there or from where, but all he knew was that she was there. The woman was like the typical beach blonde babe; her golden hair was curled and twisted itself around her shoulders, her eyes were a bright blue, and her chest protruded impressively, accentuated by the white-low-cut top she was wearing. One of her arms was wrapped around Dean's bicep while her other hand played with the hem of her black skirt flirtatiously.

"Hey big boy," she said to Dean, "come here often?" Dean couldn't help but force a little smile.

"You know, that has got to be the most overused pick-up lines in history, and you just pulled it on me," Dean replied, flashing his Winchester smile.

"Well it worked, didn't it?" The blonde flirted.

"Hmm…" Dean falsely pondered aloud, "not really, no. You're gonna have to try harder than that."

"Well then," the blonde answered, running her hand along Dean's thigh, "what do you say I try again back at my place?"

Dean removed the woman's hand from his thigh and gripped it tightly before letting go. "I'm gonna have to pass on that one," he said, and couldn't help but chuckle and return to his drink after seeing the shocked expression on the woman's face before she huffed off.

"Dean…" Sam nearly whispered from next to him, and he looked up to meet his little brother's gaze, which was completely ridden with surprise.

"What?"

"You just turned down a woman. Who wanted to have sex with you."

Dean furrowed his brow at Sam, when realization swiftly struck.

Oh shit.

"I… uh…" Dean fumbled, but couldn't get the words unlodged from his throat. For as long as he and Sam had been able to go to bars together, Dean had _never_ refused a hot chick like that. Especially if _she_ was the one wanting to do the dirty. Now Dean just sat there and turned down a perfectly eligible woman. Right in front of Sam.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Sam's gonna be _all_ over his ass now.

"Alright, Dean. Spill it," Sam commanded. "What the hell is going on?"

Dean knew the reason why he turned that blonde babe down; even though she was the hottest one there, he concluded after glancing around at the other females in the building. He felt like he would have almost been cheating on Castiel, even if the relationship they have together isn't completely established yet. No, he _would_ have been cheating. There was no "almost" about it. Castiel had feelings for him, and he reciprocated them. They kissed, had sex, and lived together for apparently three months. That _had_ to constitute as a relationship. Dean may be a lot of things gone wrong, but he was _not_ unfaithful. But how was he going to explain this to Sam?

He apparently didn't have to do much thinking, though, because his mouth had starting moving before the thoughts even formed in his slightly inebriated mind.

"Castiel and I got together and had sex in the other world and I didn't want to cheat on him," Dean blurted it out, immediately flushing red at the words he just said and his lack of control to hold them back. Sam's eyes grew impossibly wide and his mouth hung low, and Dean felt his heartbeat pound incessantly fast in his chest. "Shit, I shouldn't have said that, I…" He tried to apologize, do something, _take it all back_, but he couldn't speak. His secret was out now, and there was nothing he could do about it, and he felt his life begin to shatter around him. Sam was going to hate him now and never want to speak to him again, And Dean was going to be left alone all over again—

"It's okay," Sam assured calmly.

Dean's train of thought slammed on its brakes, derailed entirely, and sank into What-The-Fuck Lake. "What?" he said quickly.

"I said, it's okay," Sam repeated, this time allowing a soft smile to graze his face. "I still love you just the way you are, Dean." And all at once, it felt like the entire weight of the world was lifted from Dean's shoulders as he relaxed his body and left out a nervous chuckle.

"Oh thank God," he breathed out, reaching for his glass and downing what was left in it. "I thought you were going to hate me."

"No, it's okay Dean. Besides…" Sam blushed, and Dean wasn't going to let that sentence go unfinished.

"Besides what?" Dean edged.

"Well… back before I started dating Jessica, I had experimented a bit and fooled around with a guy during my freshman year at pre-law…" Sam stammered, and Dean almost fell off of his seat. _Sam_ got fucked by a guy? He never thought his little brother to be the type. "And _before you start assuming_, Dean," Sam continued, "we never had actual sex. All we did was make out and feel each other up, but I couldn't really get into it."

Damn, sometimes that kid could read Dean's mind.

"Alright, alright," Dean chuckled. "Let's just get back home."

Sam drove the Impala on the way back, after some pouting from a still somewhat drunk Dean, and they pulled into the lot of the hotel. Dean could still walk on his own without any help, and he fished his hotel key out of his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside. When he turned on the lights, he felt his stomach drop.

The room was covered in blood.

Dean's eyes trailed around the room, staring at the crimson mess that painted everything in sight. What the fuck had happened here? When his eyes came to a rest, they landed on the bed, where a still body was laying.

Dean's heart stopped beating for a second as he inhaled a sharp breath. He'd recognize that pale skin, dark hair, and dirty tan trench coat anywhere.

"Castiel!"

* * *

_**A/N: DO NOT HATE ME I SWEAR I'M NOT KILLING CASTIEL HE WILL BE FINE I PROMISE**_

_**I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, though; I'm getting tired and I need to put a lot of thought and work into the next upcoming chapters.**_

_**Also, my previous comment about the Teen Wolf Stackson (Stiles x Jackson) fic still stands. I plan on writing that once I finish with this one. Come on, guys, let me know what you think: Yay, nay?**_

_**Please review! :)**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N: I swear Castiel is okay, guys! Here is this chapter to prove it :)**_

_**I know I haven't been able to update much lately like I want to. I wanted it to be every two to three days, but family issues and school have made that difficult. So I will try to get at least one chapter our per week until it is done, which I have officially decided will be Chapter 20. I will make a disclaimer and fun fact chapter at the very end for anyone who wants/needs to read it.**_

_**And without further ado, let us begin!**_

* * *

A lazy, gruff voice _finally_ answered the phone after what felt like years.

"_Dean? What in the hell are you doin' callin' at two in the mornin'_?" Bobby interrogated.

Dean shifted the cell phone to his right ear, pacing nervously around the blood-covered hotel room. "Sam and I came back from a hunt and found Cas lying on the bed with blood everywhere," he rushed. He snuck a glance to the angel that lied motionlessly on the bed—_his_ bed. _His_ angel. "He's alive, but not responding. We checked." Dean heard what sounded like papers rustling on the other end of the line.

"_Let me see what I can find on it_," Bobby said. Dean muttered a low "thanks Bobby" before hanging up the phone, throwing it onto the nightstand, and taking his post in a chair next to Castiel. He watched over his angel closely, thinking about what could have possibly happened. Was it a fight or something? Hell, was it even his blood? He didn't even know if Castiel was going to wake up soon or never at all… and it absolutely terrified him. He ceased his moping over the topic when Sam entered the hotel room, carrying a few grocery bags in his arms.

"Hey…" Sam began slowly, "I got some food and supplies." He lifted his arms up to accentuate the bags, but Dean just nodded without ever taking his eyes off of the unconscious Castiel. "Dean?"

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean whispered, hearing just how broken he sounded despite the low volume. He took Castiel's unanimated hand and held it in between his own, keeping his gaze on the angel's soft face, where those electric blue eyes should be shining brightly with a smile as its accompaniment. Sam took his leave into the bathroom, possibly saying something about taking a shower. It didn't matter, Dean didn't really hear it. He was so lost in Castiel's features, absorbing every lock of hair and line in his face as if he would never see the angel again.

Because it might just happen.

"Cas…" Dean spoke to the still body on the bed, "I don't know if you can hear me. But if you can, you listen here, okay? I don't know what this is that's going on. But you have to wake up, you got that? I don't care what kind of internal mojo you got right now, but you use it to come back. Come on, you son of a bitch…" Dean felt himself fighting back his own tears, not even knowing that they were forming in the first place. "We need you, Cas… I need you. I…"

And he froze.

Did he… did Dean love Castiel? Dean knew he had feelings for the other man. He knew that he cared for him. He knew that the sex was unlike anything he had ever experienced and he loved every second of it. Every time he looked into those blue storms, Dean couldn't help but get lost in a vortex of his own thoughts, all circling around one word:

Cas.

"Dean?" The weak voice broke through Dean's thought barrier like a hammer to ice, shattering his entire mental wall and snapping him back into reality. He opened his eyes—not knowing he had even closed them—and saw bright blue eyes staring back at him. And it was like the entire world stopped moving, time frozen as they looked longingly into one another's souls, and Dean could feel his heartbeat pounding against the inside of his chest like a steel drum.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed as he pulled the angel into a warm embrace, blaming the lack of energy and recent awakening from a near-coma for not reciprocating.

Yep. That was it. Dean Winchester was in love with Castiel.

Sam rushed out of the bathroom with an alert expression on his face. "What's going on?" His cautious façade continued until he saw Castel lying awake on the bed, and his frown instantly crept into a smile. "Cas, you're alive!" he shouted happily.

"I believe I am," Castiel replied, but didn't move an inch, which Dean found peculiar. The hunter pulled back from his angel, but kept his hand in his own. It felt so lifeless, yet here Castiel was, talking as if nothing occurred.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked.

Castiel furrowed his brow, as if trying to remember something important. Then realization crossed his face, and he spoke, "I remember visiting from Heaven to check in on the both of you. When I arrived, the room was covered in blood, and now I am awake… and I cannot move."

Oh. So _that's_ why Castiel didn't move. He couldn't.

"Do you know what's going on?" Sam chimed in.

"I am afraid not," Castiel admitted, a defeated look crossing his face.

"Let me call Bobby back real quick," Dean offered. He grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand and speed-dialed the old hunter's number. Thankfully Dean didn't have to wait as long as last time for the man to answer, and after two rings there was a voice on the other end. Dean flipped it onto speakerphone so the others could hear.

"_I found somethin',_" Bobby said.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"_This book here says it's angel poisoning. Apparently only archangels are capable of afflictin' it on others in an attempt to maintain power and punish those who fell out of line. You trap an angel in a room coated with Fury's blood, they pass out for about six hours, and they are paralyzed when they wake up. They can't leave their body, let alone move it._"

"So what can we do about it?" The worry and anxiety showed slightly in Dean's voice, though he tried his hardest to keep it calm. What if it couldn't be cured? Was Castiel going to be immobile forever?

"_It says here that it can only be cured by pourin' the fresh blood of three different monsters that have already been long dead over the afflicted._"

"…I'm sorry, what?" Sam questioned, completely confused. "How are we supposed to get fresh blood from things that were killed long ago?"

"_I don't know, figure it out!_" Bobby yelled through the phone. "_I ain't a walkin' encyclopedia here, I don't know everythin'._"

"Thanks for the info, Bobby," Dean interrupted. "We'll see you around."

"_Be careful. Idjits._" Dean chuckled under his breath and hung up the phone.

"So what are we going to do?" Sam asked.

"I have no clue," Dean admitted as he threw the phone to the side. "Cas, you got any ideas?" Dean was instead met with a glare that told him he was a fucking idiot. "…What?"

"Dean…" Castiel began, annoyance showing clearly in his tone, "how would you kill a human that has already been killed?"

"You'd go to Heaven or Hell and kill them again," Dean replied sarcastically. "You can't, they're already dead."

"Actually, Dean, you were right the first time," Castiel commented, and Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "If someone dies and goes to Hell, you must go into Hell yourself to kill them again and for good." He squinted his eyes at the hunter. "Dean, where do monsters go when they die?"

And suddenly, everything made sense to Dean. Apparently Sam, too, since the look on taller hunter's face showed evidence of an epiphany.

"Purgatory," both Winchester brothers said at once. Castiel nodded his head in affirmation.

"Correct," the angel said. "If the two of you were to go to Purgatory, you could obtain fresh blood of a creature that has once been killed."

"Well, Chuckles, not to rain on your parade, but how in the hell are we supposed to get to Purgatory?" Dean quipped.

Castiel cocked his head slightly—the only movement he was physically able to do. "There are ways," he mentioned cryptically.

"And those are?" Sam asked.

"The one that I personally know of," Castiel started, "is to find a Reaper that has gone rogue and ask for them to take you there."

"We are _not_ involving Death in this again," Dean hissed, though he could feel his insides shiver. He _really_ didn't want to see the horseman again after he had caught Dean and Castiel right after they had sex.

"He is not a part of it," Castiel assured. "These Reapers have turned away from their duties and carry people to see their loved ones in each ones. Find one, and it can take you into Purgatory."

"So where can we find one?" Dean asked.

"Maybe a summoning?" Sam suggested. Castiel just nodded his head and returned to staring at the ceiling. Dean was wishing that those blue eyes had been turned on him instead.

"Alright," Dean exclaimed, "so we find a ritual, summon this Reaper, hitch a ride to Purgatory, kill some monsters, baptize Cas, and boom, he's back to normal and we go back to hunting things. Sound like a plan?" Sam made a small noise in agreement while Castiel remained silent. Upon further investigation, Dean concluded that the angel had fallen asleep—which really shouldn't be happening, but fuck, he's _poisoned_. It was okay for him to sleep.

Everything was going to be okay.

* * *

"We got everything?" Dean asked.

"Looks like it," Sam answered.

The two hunters stood in the middle of a cemetery, a bowl on the ground in front of them filled with graveyard dirt, raven bones, sage, and a silver Gothic cross. The wind howled through the dead trees under the night sky while the scent of earth, flowers, and death floated through the air. The grass beneath their feet was beginning to fade into a hue of brown, though it was only September. Behind them was a large tombstone of an angel burying its face into his hands, weeping above a little stone girl that carried a scythe in its hands.

"This better work," Dean bit out. "We drove two hours just to find a cemetery with a Death Statue, and you can't just _buy_ raven bones."

"I know, Dean, I was there with you. Now are you gonna let me recite the Latin, or are you just going to recap the events that took place the past sixteen hours?" Dean shut his mouth and let Sam perform the incantation with perfect fluency, just as he did every other time. Dean lit a match and dropped it into the bowl, creating an eruption of flame that surprisingly reached up to Sam's hip. Both hunters jumped back at the massive spark, and Dean bumped into something on his way backwards. When he turned around, that some_thing_ became a some_one_.

"Can I help you?" the man said. He was as tall as Sam, with medium-length black hair, a barely-chiseled jaw line and stellar cheek bones. He appeared to be quite lanky, but his shoulders were broad and it was easy to see the semi-toned muscles underneath his black tailcoat. He was dressed as what seemed like a Victorian-Goth butler, which a white ruffled shirt under the coat and slim, black slacks. His black leather shoes were scuff-less, along with everything else he wore. The back of his left hand had a marking of a Devil's Trap on it—which was smart, now that Dean thought about it, because he could prevent a demon from moving as long as he had a grip on it. But what really caught Dean and Sam's attention were his eyes. They glowed a crimson red, like swirling pools of blood, and they gave a glimpse of the horrible darkness behind them, having absolutely no remorse over any horrible things he had done in his life.

Dean was not scared when he looked down the barrel of the Colt at Azazel. Dean was not scared when he made the deal to bring Sam back in exchange for his soul. He was not scared of facing Lucifer, or sitting down and having a meal with Death. Yet at this very moment, right here in the middle of a graveyard in front of a Death Statue, in front of this mysterious man… Dean Winchester was terrified.

"Who are you?" Sam asked—which is a good thing, because Dean was unable to speak.

"Mordred," the Reaper replied; his answer was terse and almost militaristic. He brushed a speck of dust off the shoulder of his tailcoat. "You summoned me here?"

"Wait," Sam interjected, "Mordred? As in son of Morgana?"

Mordred rolled his eyes agitatedly. "Yes, heir to one of the most powerful witches. Yes, I became a Reaper, _yes_, I went rogue, and _yes,_ I can read minds. I was once the strongest Reaper under Death's staff. Done now?" Sam stood perfectly frozen, wide-eyed and gaped mouth at the Reaper. Dean held back a nervous laugh.

"Listen, Mordred…" Dean started, and swallowed a lump in his throat as he felt crimson eyes boring into him. "We have an angel friend that's poisoned, and we need to get into Purgatory to cure him—"

"And you expected me to take you there?" Mordred finished, and Dean heard the click of his own teeth instantaneously as he snapped his jaw shut. Mordred rolled his eyes, which seemed to be a frequent thing with them around. "Do you have anything to offer me?"

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion. "What?"

"Spiritual plane traveling is taxing," Mordred began. "It puts strain on both you and I, and it takes a lot of energy for me to do it. Not only that, but I have to do it _twice_, since I take it you will be wanting to come back. Plus, there are two of you. In order for me to do this, I have to use four times the normal amount of energy it takes for me to take someone to a different spiritual plane. Now… do you have something to offer me?" He said his last sentence demandingly slow, and Dean could feel the palpable power emanating from the Reaper.

"Well… what do you want?" Sam asked. Mordred gave him a once over, and Dean didn't have to be a mind reader to know what _that_ meant. He had done that to many girls—and Cas—many times.

"I'll take _your_ energy as sufficient," Mordred spoke to Sam, licking his lips hungrily. Well, that wasn't what Dean was expecting. "I can smell it from here," Mordred continued, "and it smells delicious. I want a taste, nothing more."

"And what will you do to me?!" Sam panicked, and Dean couldn't hold back the laughter that was forming in his gut, earning him a bitch face from Sam and a wicked glare from Mordred. He decided to close his mouth and let the two walking giants handle the transaction.

"What I will do," Mordred directed to Sam, "or more so, what _we_ will do, is participate in an energy siphoning via mild carnal exchange."

"Meaning…?" Sam trailed.

"In human terms, I will suck the energy out of you by making out with and jerking you off."

Dean's jaw dropped to the ground, and holy shit, he could have sworn Sam's dropped even farther. Sammy was going to have a Reaper—a nonetheless attractive Reaper—shove his tongue down Sammy's throat and give him a handjob in order to steal some energy and work his magic to get them to Purgatory. This situation was way too fucking much for him, and he bellowed out a laugh. Sam remained entirely speechless, staring blankly at Mordred.

"You're kidding… right?" Sam finally said when he got his voice back. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously.

"Would you rather be sodomized?" Mordred offered. Sam frantically shook his head, and the Reaper directed his attention towards Dean. "You may want to turn away, lest you wish to observe." And holy shit, Dean had never taken someone's advice so quickly. Sure, getting a few pointers would be nice, but he wasn't about to watch his younger brother get driven to orgasm by an age-old Reaper. He turned around, and after a few whispered words, he heard the sound of crashing lips and a zipper being undone. The noises coming from Sam were intensely graphic, and Dean knew he would need to put a bullet through his head to ever forget the moan that signified his younger brother's orgasm. Oh, the stories Bobby will hear…

"You may turn around now," Mordred commanded. Dean obeyed and looked upon both tall men. The only evidence that they had ever done anything remotely sexual was the humiliated look upon Sam's face and the increased spike of energy that surged around Mordred. Dean almost felt sorry for Sammy, considering he had only agreed to it to get to Purgatory and help Cas—something Dean would have to thank him for. But a small part of Dean was laughing hysterically inside, because the look on Sammy's face was _priceless_.

"Are you two ready?" Mordred's voice cut through the air, ringing with intense power. Both brothers nodded their head in unison. "Then let us continue." The Reaper flicked his wrist in a swift motion, though resembling a mechanical puppet, and the world around them began to twist and fade away into a swirling cloud of crimson. Dean felt incredibly dizzy and was nearly ready to puke. Everything was going so fast around them, like they were moving to Pluto at hyper-speed, and it never seemed to end. After what felt like hours, Dean opened his (apparently closed) eyes and gazed upon an extensive forest that stretched much farther than he could see. The sky was perpetually gray and many of the trees appeared dead. A near-black stream weaved along the forest floor next to them, and Dean felt like he was in a black-and-white movie.

Mordred's voice pierced through the deafening silence of the new world.

"Welcome to Purgatory."

* * *

_**A/N: So the description of Mordred had come out that way in my head, but as I created him, I realized how much of a resemblance to Sebastian from Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) looks. If that helps you to picture how he appears and sounds then awesome, but in my mind, he does appear slightly different (shorter, more emo-style hair; not as British).**_

_**Cas is okay! Just like I said! Don't kill me ._.**_

**_Review, my lovelies, and I will reward you with... happiness. I will be happy. :3_**


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N: It's official. I am the worst person on the planet. I have made you guys wait sixteen days on this chapter, and I feel so bad about it! I've just been so busy, or I haven't had the motivation. Either way, I have gotten it done, so here it is!**_

_**To anyone following my Tumblr... you know how I said this was going to be the longest chapter so far? Well... I lied. I decided to break it up and put the other half of what I was planning into the next chapter. So the NEXT chapter will be the longest. Pinkie promise (I don't break those!).**_

_**And with that... let us begin!**_

* * *

Dean allowed his eyes to scan the gray city of trees around him and his mind to wrap around all of it. So _this_ was Purgatory. Truth be told, he expected it to be less… beautiful. Sure, it was colorless and dreary, but he thought the place of afterlife for monsters and other things that go bump in the night was supposed to be a lot like Hell. Apparently not. Hell, add a bit of color to the place and Dean would've taken Cas out here for a date.

Cas.

"_Oh God, if you exist, _please_ let him be okay,_" Dean silently prayed to himself. He thought about the blood that covered the walls of the hotel and how his heart had dropped when he saw the angel lying on the newly-turned crimson bed. What if the blood had actually belonged to Cas, and he was dead on the bed? Dean wasn't sure what he would do himself after that.

He didn't want to admit it, but Dean Winchester, the great hunter and womanizer… had fallen in love with the man angel.

"So you're here for your angel boyfriend?" Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when the powerful tone of the words reached his ear, and he spun around to face Mordred, who was swinging a small, scarlet-colored crystal pendulum in boredom. In any other situation, Dean would have punched the guy straight in the face for saying it out loud—just because Sam knew doesn't mean everyone else did, yet—but he quickly remembered who was saying it: a powerful Reaper-Witch who can read minds and probably demolish his entire existence with a snap of his fingers.

"Just because I am a three-thousand year old being with arcane abilities," Mordred continued, "does not mean I have no understanding of your feelings. I, too…" Dean noticed Mordred's rigid and powerful composure soften for the first time that night. "I have been in love before as well. Before I died and became a Reaper, that is."

"Is that why you're helping us?" Dean asked. The Reaper seemed to ponder the question for a second, before regaining his original posture.

"Perhaps so, but perhaps not. You will most likely never know." Mordred smirked wickedly and Dean refrained himself from saying anything back in fear of obliteration. "Now, I am not sure what you and your brother are here for, but make sure you do it quick. I can keep you both here for twenty-four hours total, and nothing more. Return to this spot when you are ready," he said as he dropped the pendulum onto the ground, watching it shatter and reform itself into a crimson spike protruding from the ground, "and I will bring you back."

Dean nodded his head while Sam just stood perfectly still. Dean chuckled under his breath; Sam clearly was still in shock from his little exchange with Mordred.

Mordred turned his back to the Winchesters and raised his arm halfway, a deep scarlet aura twisting around it like razor tendrils. "Remember," he called back, "twenty-four hours." And just like that, the aura spiked and faded, and the Reaper was gone.

"Alright," Dean said, turning to Sam. "Let's go hunt some monsters."

Sam looked around the desolate forest. "I don't see anyone else."

Dean furrowed his brow and traced Sam's vision path around the trees. Dammit, he was right; no one else but them was around.

"Well then, genius, let's go _hunting_, like we always do," Dean sassed. Sam simply just scoffed at his older brother but obeyed, following close behind. They trekked through the ashy woods for a few hours, crushing twigs beneath their boots and making small talk along the way. Dean finally felt like brothers again; just the two of them, talking about normal things. Well, minus the fact they were in Purgatory on a mission to save an Angel of the Lord.

"I'm telling you, Sammy," Dean said, "Jensen Ackles is a much better actor than Jared Padalecki."

"I beg to differ!" Sam argued back. "Jared is clearly the better one. He can show much more emotion than Jensen can."

"Yeah, whatever," Dean retorted. "That just means he has a reason to be emotional. Hell, if we were ever in a TV show he would probably play you."

Sam punched his older brother in the arm. "Jerk." Dean returned with a blow of his own to Sam's arm while muttering "Bitch." They laughed it off and continued to walk a little farther towards another creek. It was a different one than where they had first arrived at; this one twisted a little more and ran faster. However, the water was still a dull grey, like everything else in the world.

"Let's take a break here," Sam suggested, sitting down on a large rock by the creek's edge.

"We don't have the time to stop for tea, Sammy," Dean bit out harsher than he had intended. "We gotta be back in—" Dean checked his watch, "—eighteen hours."

Sam sighed and looked pointedly at the older Winchester. "Dean, eighteen hours is a long time. We can hunt three different things in that time. And Cas isn't going anywhere…" He looked away from Dean, avoiding eye contact, probably thinking it was a more sensitive topic than it really was. Dean internally rolled his eyes at the thought. "I know you're worried about him and all," Sam went on, "but he's gonna be absolutely fine."

Dean thought it over in his head momentarily. Was he really overreacting about it? He wanted to get back home and take care of Cas, to make sure he was going to be okay. Hell, he just wanted to get back home; this was the third different world Dean had been in within a month. But maybe he was speeding things too fast.

"Yeah, okay," Dean finally caved, sitting down on the giant piece of stone next to him. They sat quietly for a bit, just listening to the water rushing along its natural path. Dean missed this kind of stuff. He missed being able to enjoy the simplest things, to just relax, to—

A crunching noise rang through the woods around them.

Dean and Sam instantly shot up, hands on their guns, ready for battle. It sounded like a branch being snapped in half, probably from a creature around them.

That's when it hit Dean.

This was a whole new game. For years, ever since they were kids, he and Sam had been hunting the supernatural. _They_ were the ones doing the killing, while the monsters were the ones defending themselves.

Now, for the first time… they were being hunted too.

Another noise pounded through the air. This time, it was louder, and Dean almost flinched at it. Almost. But no, what _really_ made him flinch was the deep, dark, feminine laughter that danced through the area like an ominous wind. It was long and frequent, approaching them from all directions, as if the origin of it was moving around them. Dean tried to pinpoint its exact location but it moved at incredible speed.

Fast, feminine, and seductive laughter. Only one thing that could be.

"Sam, it's a succubus," Dean told his brother. Sam nodded and pulled out his knife, which showed Dean that he understood the protocol for dealing with these things. Succubi, along with their male counterparts Incubi (both classified under the unisex term "Desire Demon"), were demons of lust with a speed that was hard to match. They were relentless, and one touch could put someone under their spell. "Come out, you devil's whore!" Dean shouted into the void. The laughter ceased immediately and its creator stepped out from behind a tree.

By natural law, in order for Desire Demons to be able to find their prey to feed on through sex, the Demon must be stunningly beautiful, whether it's a male or female. Normally, they can attract both genders regardless of the victim's sexuality. But this succubus was unnaturally sexy. She had long, black hair that twisted into lush curls past her shoulders, and her dark brown eyes resembled endless voids of power that made Dean melt—God, he was going to Hell for swooning over a demon when Cas was waiting for him back home. Of course, the skimpy black corset and thong didn't help him at all. And _of course_, she had to have a double-D rack and long legs as well. Dean fought to keep his libido down to a minimum. At least he'd be able to blame it on the succubus back home.

"Well, two humans here in good old Purgatory," the succubus chanted, her voice a dark, syrupy-sweet pulse throughout the closing distance between her and the hunters as she stepped forward, a sadistic grin on her face. "I don't believe you belong here, now do you?"

"Could say the same for you, sweetheart," Dean retorted, showing no restraint on his harsh tone. "Aren't demons supposed to be sent to Hell when they die?"

The succubus wrapped a curl of her hair around her forefinger in a seductive manner. "You'd think so, huh?" she said. "I thought I was going into those fiery pits once that one asshole John Winchester put a silver dagger in my chest, but apparently not."

Dean almost laughed out loud right there. Well, this was ironic, wasn't it?

"Our dad killed you?" Sam asked, seeming actually intrigued by the demon in front of him. Dean wanted nothing more than to smack him at the moment.

"Oh, he was _your_ old man?" the succubus spoke in an accusatory manner. "Well, I should introduce myself." She strutted even closer to Dean, who had his fingers wrapped tightly around his gun—a bullet might not kill her but it'll sure fucking hurt—, and lifted her hand in a silent request for a shake. "You may call me Shade." Dean gazed down at her hand incredulously and pulled his gun from the holster entirely, raising it at point with her forehead.

"You think I'm stupid?" Dean growled through his teeth. "I'm not gonna touch a damn succubus."

Shade's smile grew larger and even more wicked than before. "Awh, damn. And here I thought I was going to be able to do this the easy way." She pulled back quickly and delivered a swift roundhouse kick to Dean's gun, sending it flying and causing him to recoil backwards, falling down in the process. Shade lunged at the older Winchester, but stopped instantly when a bullet hit her shoulder. She turned to face Sam, who had drawn his gun and fired off the treacherous shot.

"That was a warning shot," Sam said, a stern expression on his face and intimidation in his voice. "The next one will hurt a hell of a lot more." Shade laughed her sickly lustful laugh, and Dean used her lack of attention to bring himself back to his feet and armed with his gun again.

"You know," Shade said, a haunting calmness to her demeanor, "I may never be able to kill your daddy for revenge, but I can just end you both instead." She flipped her hair behind her shoulders and dashed at Sam with unimaginable speed, grabbing him by the shirt and forcing him onto the ground, straddling him in the process. Dean reacted with a shot from his gun; apparently, that didn't work too well though, because Shade lifted up one hand and caught the bulelt between razor-sharp fingernails. With a flick of her wrist, she launched it back at Dean, hitting him in his right forearm. Dean stumbled back and growled in pain. Great, so not only was she fast, but she was strong, too. Dean watched helplessly as the demon lifted up her claws, ready to slash Sam's throat out.

"This is it for you, darling," Shade cooed, keeping a heavily-struggling Sam firmly still under her grasp. "If you hadn't decided to damage my flawless skin, we could have had some fun…"

Dean felt time slow to a near stop. This was it. It was the end. He was going to watch Sammy, his younger brother, the only thing left of his family besides Bobby (who wasn't even blood-family)… Dean was going to watch him die. And he was going to be next. He was going to fail Cas. And this time, he won't be brought back to fix his mistakes.

"SAM!" Dean screamed with the little bit of willpower he had left, not caring that the tears that had been welling in his eyes started falling.

And then it happened so fast.

Shade fell off of Sam, being struck by an unknown object. She reared her head up, showing a deep, flowing gash across her cheek. Dean sat in awe, staring at the injured succubus. By the look on Sam's face, he didn't know what was going on either.

"Who the fuck decided _that_ was okay?!" Shade shrieked, her voice reaching a shrill volume. She jumped to her feet, looking in every direction to find her attacker, seeming to forget about her next two potential victims.

"I believe that _I_ decided," a voice called out, and Dean perked his head at it instantly. Something about that voice seemed so familiar… he tried to pinpoint where he had heard it, but he couldn't exactly remember. It almost sounded… French.

"Then why don't you finish what you started?!" Shade screamed.

A dark chuckle, though not seductive like a succubus, rang in Dean's ear. "Gladly." And just like that, Shade was impaled into the ground by a large, off-white spike, her blood soaking the ground and her face a still mask. If Dean knew any better, he would say that the spike was made of bone.

A female figure descended from the trees, dressed in familiarly scandalous tribal clothes, her hair weaved into dreadlocks.

"I can't leave you boys alone for a few seconds, can I?" the woman called out to Dean and Sam—this time, her French accent was clear as day.

Dean knew exactly who this was.

"Valois?"

* * *

_**A/N: SURPRISE! You know, I really seem to love cliffhangers. This is the last one, though. I promise.**_

_**I cannot give an estimated date on the release of the next chapter... I'm sorry ._.**_

_**Please review!**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**A/N: AHHH I AM SO SORRY I HAVE BEEN INCREDIBLY BUSY AND HAVEN'T UPDATED THIS**_

_**I wanted to make this chapter a lot longer than I usually make them. I mean, sure, it's not THAT long... but I mean, it's long for me.**_

_**Also, I changed my Tumblr URL to "seductivedeanwinchester" in case you decide to follow me, or wondered where I went. I might go through the other chapters where I mentioned my previous URL and change it. Or I might not.**_

_**Anyways, here is Chapter 19! *excitement***_

* * *

Dean stared at Valois incredulously, unable to process the sight he had just beheld. It made sense… kind of. She was a Skulletra, a form of monster, after all. Why wouldn't she be sent to Purgatory? Still, it came as a rather shocking surprise to see her standing there. The look on Sam's face was even more disbelieving, which was also understandable; the guy did watch her burst into flames, didn't he? Dean stood up onto his feet, slightly wincing from the pain in his left thigh from the blow, and watched as the tribal woman strutted slowly towards him, showing no restraint to the sway of her hips.

"A part of me wants to ask how you died," Valois spoke, "but the smarter part of me knows that you two are not supposed to be here. So, why?"

Dean shifted nervously on his heels, though he couldn't recall why exactly he was nervous. A wind that shouldn't really even exist in this realm blew through the somber branches of the ashen trees. "We, uh… we're here to help someone."

"Is that so?" Valois sang, the essence of power palpable in her tone. Nothing had changed, huh. "And who might this someone be?"

"Our angel friend," Sam chimed in—much to Dean's relief, since the older Winchester was still working through an anxiety attack. "He was poisoned by an archangel."

"Ah, Dean's angel boyfriend, Castiel. Am I wrong?" Valois smiled, and Dean felt a lump in his throat as he tried to answer, but couldn't find the words.

Since he and Cas became a "thing", Dean hadn't really admitted it formally to anyone except Sam. He hadn't told Bobby yet, and Mordred only knew because the fucker could read his mind (Dean shifted his eyes around the scenery to make sure that the Reaper wasn't nearby to hear that thought, just in case). But it was easy to admit it to Sam; he's family, for God's sake. Saying it out loud though, that Castiel was Dean's boyfriend, to _Valois_, was different. Dean wasn't sure how it was different, but damn, it was.

He didn't actually have to admit it, though, because Valois kept talking.

"Dean, you don't have to keep it a secret from _me_," she laughed, adding emphasis on the final word. "I was the one who made sure that the Cupid's Lament existed, remember?"

"Yeah, and that fucking thing drove me to Hell and back for a second time," Dean snapped, throwing his arms halfway into the air. "You wouldn't even tell us what it did, and we had to guess for ourselves!"

"And what good would that have done?" Valois took a step closer to the older Winchester, who instinctively backed away. As she spoke, she continued to walk slowly towards him, and he took a step in reverse with each of her advances.

"If I would have told you that the flower was to help you two develop a romantic relationship, you would have denied it as fast as you would have shot down your attraction to men. You barely recognized your own feelings for Castiel, and I was able to see it clearer than day. The flower speeds up the process of growing a bond of romance for one another, not create it." Dean felt his spine ram gently into a tree, and his backwards walking came to a halt. Valois was nearly pressed against him, and her words kept rolling off of her tongue. "I promised you a gift that would change your life forever, and that's what I gave you. Had I told you the flower's purpose, you would not have had your time like that with Castiel. Now, are you _glad_ that I didn't speak of it?"

Dean's eyes shot a request for help to Sam, who had been awkwardly spectating from a short distance, and was met only with an apologetic look.

"Not my division," Sam silently mouthed, and Dean rolled his eyes before turning his gaze back to a clearly impatient Skulletra.

"Yeah… I'm glad. Thank you," Dean finally admitted, and with a huff and a smile, Valois stepped back, giving the hunter some very much needed breathing space.

"Now, if I recall," Valois mused aloud, "curing angel poisoning requires the fresh blood of monsters that have long been dead. In that case, shouldn't you hurry up and bottle up some of this whore's blood before it spoils?"

Sam, who had been standing perfectly still and unfocused during the exchange, was instantly alert at the reminder that they had a task to do, and they only had about seventeen hours or so left. He pulled out a small glass vial from his pocket and walked cautiously over to Shade's lifeless form, inspecting to make sure she was actually dead before deciding that she was gone for good and scooping a bit of her blood into the vial, sealing it with a cork and returning it to his pocket. "Alright," he finally said once he was done, "only two more left."

Dean nodded his head and turned to face more of the vast forest in front of them. "Let's get going."

"I'm coming with you," Valois stated from behind the hunters. Dean spun around and met her determined stare, a clash of emerald and amethyst jewels among a sea of colorless life.

"Thanks, but we got this," Dean sneered. "You can go have your fun somewhere else."

"Dean—," Sam began, but was interrupted firmly,

"No, Sammy, we'll be fine. We don't need anymore help."

"Oh look, prided as ever," Valois smirked, which sent a ping of anger throughout Dean's soul. "Are you forgetting that you and your little brother were almost just killed by an angry succubus before I decided to step in? I was well aware of your presence a few hours before that encounter, just so you know."

Dean almost, _almost_, pulled out his gun and shot the Skulletra in the face, but she had a point. Valois _did_ save their lives. Had it not been for her, they would have died, and Cas would have been rendered useless and alone until he was found and probably killed by another angel. So, yeah, he did owe it to her. "Come on, then," he finally sighed, and the other two followed behind as they walked through the desolate forest.

* * *

"Do you know what animal you remind me of?"

"What, Valois?"

"A moose."

"Oh my Go— Dean, what is up with everyone calling me a moose?!"

"Holy shit, you two, shut up!" Dean shouted behind him. He had been listening to Sam and Valois' pointless conversations about history and rituals and pop music (surprisingly) and other bullshit topics for the past three or four hours as they continued to walk along the melancholic river, and it was driving him insane. It already had him on edge enough that they literally hadn't found any monster that hadn't already been dead (again) for a long time, rendering their blood useless. Not only that but, they had about thirteen hours left, he was hungry, his feet hurt, and he needed to sleep.

"Sorry…" Sam muttered sheepishly, while Valois' eyeroll was practically audible. "Don't you think we should take a break?" the younger brother suggested. "We're all pretty beat and need some sleep."

"Not until we find at least one more monster," Dean declared. "Once we do that, we can sleep for a bit." As he ended his sentence, a loud, primal scream erupted from somewhere to their left, and all three of them turned to see a creature, what looked like a vampire, charging at them with a makeshift club. "Well, speak of the devil," Dean joked.

"I'll handle it," Valois said, and a long, sharp bone erected itself from the palm of her hand. She rushed towards the vampire with a high speed and slashed at him, but the bloodsucker was faster than normal dashed out of harm's way. They swung their weapons at each other violently, dodging each other with agile precision, before the vamp delivered a swift kick to Valois' stomach, sending her flying back against a large rock.

"You sure you got it?" Dean called out to her, and the vampire turned his attention towards the hunters, making a break for him. Dean pulled his handgun from his holster and fired two swift rounds into the monster's legs, which slowed him down slightly, but not enough to stop him.

"Hold him off for a bit!" Valois commanded as she rose up from the ground and began to exotically contort her body in strange ways, which flashed familiar memories through Dean's head. He remembered that this was the dance method that Skulletras used to cast their powerful magic, and Valois was planning something. He nodded his head to her, whether she could see it or not, and tried shooting at the vamp's arm in an attempt to make him drop his club. He missed, though, and barely had enough time to dodge the blow from that same club that came hammering down towards him when the vampire got close enough. Another shot echoed, this time from Sam, and it hit its mark in the creature's shoulder, causing him to drop his makeshift weapon. Dean silently reminded himself to credit Sam for his recent marksmanship.

"Done!" Valois shouted, and Dean glanced over at her as she swiveled her body around from her dance into a posing finale, her legs crossed beneath her and her arms stretched outward almost invitingly, and a torrent of violet magic in the form of countless razor-like threads surged from her fingertips towards the monster in front of them. The strings wrapped tightly around his every limb, and a strangled cry bellowed from behind his fangs. Valois voiced a loud "Catch!" before detaching her bone sword from her palm and launching it into the air towards Dean. The hunter grasped it midair and slashed at the vampire's neck with it, watching the creature's head fall to the ground as adrenaline pulsed through his body.

"Wow… that was awesome," Dean finally admitted after catching his breath. Sam smiled in agreement, and Valois made her way back over towards where they stood.

"Now are you glad I tagged along?" Valois questioned smugly. Dean just rolled his eyes but smiled simultaneously, while Sam hummed an approving noise while collecting the vampire's blood into a second vial.

"Alright," Dean said, clapping his hands together firmly, "it's time to go the fuck to sleep." He looked around for a solid place to sleep, as his eyes began to feel the effects of drowsiness. However, all he could see was rough patches of twigs and stone to sleep on. "…except I have _no idea_ where to go."

"We'll have to find a cave or something," Sam said. "It wouldn't be the most comfortable, but it would be less of a chance that we would be found in the middle of our rest. Valois, do you know where the nearest cave is?"

"About a kilometer south from here. It'll take some walking."

Dean groaned unappreciatively. Exhaust had hit his body like a truck, and he just wanted to sleep for a long while. Nonetheless, they began walking, sleepiness hovering around them like a ghost, yet caution still present in their beings. It was about an hour before they got to the cave that Valois had mentioned, and after thoroughly checking it to make sure there were no other habitants, the trio fell asleep on the cave ground, using their jackets and any other cushioned things they may have had as pillows and blankets.

* * *

Dean awoke with a startled jolt, taking a moment to hazily pinpoint his surroundings. He had forgotten that they had fallen asleep in a cave. Sam and Valois were still out cold. The kink in Dean's lower spine told him that he had been asleep for a good deal of time, and he stepped outside to check his watch under the falling sun.

They had been asleep for eleven hours.

Six hours left.

Dean rushed back into the cave. "Sam, Valois, get up!" Sam awoke groggily and slowly sat up, while Valois nearly teleported into a standing position.

"What is it, Dean?" Sam asked, drowsiness still predominant in his voice.

"We slept too long, that's what. We have six fucking hours left, and we still have a monster to kill _and_ get back to where we came in." Sam mumbled a low "shit" under his breath as he scurried to get up, and the three of them left the cave with a fast walk, though not a run.

"Do you know where you're going?" Valois asked. "I caught you two a while after you came in, so I don't know where you entered from."

Sam closed his eyes, as if he was reading a mental map that he had cataloged in his brain. "Judging by how many times we turned around and stopped and whatnot, we're about four miles west from our entry point. Mordred can pick us up at any time that we get there, so if we're early then we can leave early."

"Alright," Dean said, "so we'll head in that direction and hope that we catch a baddy on the way and kill him. Sound good?" Sam and Valois nodded, and they begun their journey towards the crimson spike that marked their rendezvous point.

* * *

One hour left. And they still hadn't filled their final vial.

The trio had finally reached their destination, the crystallized blood marking where they originally entered, and the only encounters they had along the way were against vampires, which they already had the blood for. Time was counting down quickly, and they still didn't have what they needed. They stayed near the spike, hoping that a monster would come and find them so that they could kill it quickly, but there weren't even any disturbances of anything around them, let alone creatures. It was peaceful, and that upset Dean.

"Dammit!" Dean exclaimed, breaking the two-hour-long silence that had preceded. "Nothing is coming, and we don't have much time left!"

"Dean, calm down," Sam tried to console, his voice low in contrast to Dean's shouts, "I'm sure something will come. Just… be patient, okay?"

"Sam, you don't get it," Dean hissed. "We haven't gotten anything new since that first vampire before we fell asleep _sixteen hours ago_. At this rate, we're gonna have to leave, and we won't have what we need!"

"I knew it would come down to this."

The voice was soft, almost inaudible, but both Dean and Sam heard it, and they instantly snapped to attention at a distraught-looking Valois, who had her head tilted down towards her dirty, bare feet.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"You guys were summoned into the vampire part of Purgatory," she explained, a somber air to her words. "Skulletra rarely die, so we don't have a specific part. I was roaming when I happened to see you, and the succubus had been breaking her boundaries. Vampires really should have been all you see around here…" Valois ran her hand slowly through her dreadlocks, stopping at the end of one of them to nervously twist her fingers around it.

"How far is the nearest territory that isn't this?" Dean questioned sternly.

"Too far," Valois admitted slowly. "I'm the only other creature you'll find for about ten kilometers."

"Dammit… we'll figure something out, maybe there's another straggler or—"

"You want us to kill you…" Sam deadpanned, interrupting Dean, who left his mouth hanging open with wordless silence. Valois closed her eyes and nodded slowly.

"I want you boys to be successful on your mission," she stated, then turned her focus on Dean. "I want you to save Castiel, and be with him forever. You deserve that."

"Valois…" Dean muttered, almost a soft whisper, "I… I can't. I can't kill you. I know I was a dick to you for a long time now, but I owe my life and everything in it to you. I can't send you off like that."

"That's not something I can do either, Valois," Sam confessed. "We became good friends over all of this… I can't kill a friend. Not again…" Pain shot through Sam's eyes, and Dean remembered Madison, the werewolf that Sam loved and was forced to kill. He remembered seeing the hurt and fear in his little brother's eyes mixed in with the tears, and he had felt a tear fall from his own face upon hearing the gunshot…

Neither of them could kill Valois. They couldn't kill a friend like that.

"I'm sorry, Val…" Dean apologized, hoping that the shortened name wouldn't offend her. "We can't do it."

"Then promise me something," Valois replied.

"Anything except that."

"You will collect my blood after I end myself. Okay?"

Dean felt his stomach drop instantly. Valois was going to kill herself for them.

"You can't… you can't kill yourself for us like that!" Dean snapped, his voice getting harsher than he intended. He felt his eyes begin to swell up as a wetness pooled behind them. "You have no reason to kill yourself!"

"I have a reason, Dean," Valois spoke softly, reaching out a thumb to wipe away the tears that the hunter was unable to hold back. "For the result of something better and happier. I ended myself once before for the same reason, remember? It's okay, darling. I want to do this." She pulled away from Dean and faced towards Sam, who was doing nothing to hold his silver tears back. "Don't worry, my little moose. Maybe when monsters die in Purgatory, they go to Heaven, and we'll see each other again there." Sam swallowed hard, a look of sadness and something else in his eyes, and pulled Valois in for a tight hug. Dean ambled slowly over and joined them, wrapping his arms loosely around the both of them.

It's a horrible thing that life does. It allows you to become close with someone, one you consider part of your own family, and when you least expect it to, it takes that person away from you. Life doesn't care what will happen to you and your feelings; it just goes on. That was what Dean was thinking as Valois pulled away from them, her own violet eyes shiny with tears, requested the final vial from Sam, and began to perform one final dance, twisting in elegant yet melancholic motions, singing a melody that Dean didn't recognize.

"_Are you going to Scarborough Fair…?_" Her singing voice was sweet and calming, fit for a lullaby. Dean watched helplessly as Valois kept dancing and singing.

"_Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme…_"

The lump in Dean's throat tightened as he kept his composure as solid as possible.

"_Remember me to one who lives there…_"

Sam broke into soft sobs, and Dean felt the tears finally escape him.

"_For she once was a true love of mine…_"

And with that, Valois was gone, a swirl of violet haze taking her into nothingness, leaving a black ribbon from her hair and the vial, filled with an amethyst-colored blood, lying on the ground.

* * *

Everything else went by in a haze. Dean wouldn't be able to recall the specific details of the rest of what happened if he was asked to. What he did remember, was finally crying softly. He remembered picking up the vial and ribbon, and tying the ribbon around the neck of the vial. He remembered Mordred appearing to take them back minutes later, and the dizzy arrival to the graveyard. And he remembered somehow getting back to the motel where Cas had been patiently waiting for them. He did not remember any conversations that were held, if there were any, or any thoughts that may or may not have gone through his head.

All that he remembered thinking, was that Valois _will_ be remembered.

Dean opened the door to the motel room, and saw Castiel lying on the bed, sleeping calmly. A smile, the first one he had in what felt like years, crept onto his face, and he sat on the bed next to his angel and gently shook him awake.

"Hey, Cas… we're back," he said gently.

Castiel opened his eyes slowly and looked with bright blue orbs at the hunter in front of him, and an even brighter grin appeared on his lips. "Dean…"

"We have the blood," Sam chimed in, holding the three vials in the air, the ribbon-marked one in the center.

"Mix it into a bowl and pour it over my torso," Castiel commanded. Sam obeyed and searched the room to find a bowl, while Dean stayed where he was taking Castiel's hand into his and holding it firmly, as if the angel would disappear forever if he let his grip go even a little bit.

"We got you, Cas…" Dean repeated over and over, more as an assurance to himself than to Castiel. Sam finally found the bowl and mixed the blood into it. When he finished, he walked over to Castiel, bowl in hand. Dean helped to take off the clothing on Castiel's chest, and Sam poured the blood over him, red and violet liquid pouring fluidly over the pale skin onto the white sheets. When the bowl emptied, Castiel sat up slowly, smilingly hugely.

"It worked!" Dean exclaimed, pulling Castiel in for a long, much-desired kiss. It was filled with want and need, but not in the sexual manner; instead, the kiss was of longing, the way they never wanted to lose each other. Their lips moved perfectly in tune with the other, tongues brushing on occasion, and their eyes were closed firmly as they both relished in the feeling of finally being together again. Sam had disappeared into the bathroom to give them a little bit of privacy, and Dean was thankful for it.

"I never want to let go, Cas…" Dean whispered against Castiel's lips when they broke apart slightly. Castiel responded with a soft, chaste kiss, and Dean felt his heart race at the feeling of rough lips against his own, a feeling he never thought he would love more than anything.

"Neither do I," Castiel confessed, and they kissed each other softly again.

"I love you, Castiel."

"I love you too, Dean."

* * *

_**A/N: Awh, feels... it had to be in there somewhere.**_

_**Also, the song that Valois sings is called Scarborough Fair, which is a traditional folk song.**_

_**This is NOT the last chapter. I will have one more real chapter after this, and an optional epilogue to tie up loose ends. I will also be adding a disclaimer section after the epilogue for anyone who wants/needs to read it.**_

_**Since I can't really be trusted with updating this when I say I will, I'm not going to give an estimated time on the next update. I haven't been forgetting about you guys, I promise, I've just been busy!**_

_**Remember: Tumblr URL is now "seductivedeanwinchester" if you decide to follow me.**_

_**Follow, favorite, review? I'll love you if you do.**_

_**And with that, I will see you guys next time. ;)**_


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